What Do You Want From Me?
by xX-Misty
Summary: Sequel to Eyes of Blue: With Alex desperate to get back to Gene in the nineties, the chase of one man on both sides of the line may hold the key. Arthur Layton set everything in motion with one bullet; now could his capture bring everything full circle?
1. Prologue

**Prologue:**

_So that's what it's like, getting messages._

_Half messages at any rate._

_No wonder me team is always made up of breadbaskets._

The cheap brandy was no substitute for his scotch but it was the only thing to hand so it would have to do. Gene needed something right then, anything. The messages from Alex had been surreal and confusing. He stared at the blank screen, replaying them through his mind time and again. The more he thought about it, the more certain he was that Alex would make it back but the more confused he felt about how she'd get there.

She had to make it. He was counting on it. And although he hadn't understood what his own role in her return was going to be he did know that he'd do anything necessary from his side of the line to being her home..

"You're getting your arse back here, Bols," he said firmly as he stared at the television where her image had played just a few minutes earlier, "you've got no choice in the matter because you're bloody needed."

_My name is Gene Hunt. Me better half woke up from a coma and found herself in two thousand and bollocks. Now she's talking to me on the TV and I can't even get her tuned in properly. She needs to get back to her bloody home and somehow I have to help her, but when I'm fifteen years behind her it's bloody impossible to know what I'm supposed to do. So I'll keep looking until I find a way. Because she's coming back. I'm not giving her a choice in the matter. Bolly's coming home._

~xXx~

_It was not supposed to be like this._

_This was my route home._

_This isn't fair… none of this is fair… and I don't know how to make it better._

Alex sat in the hospital room on the edge of the bed, waiting for the discharge forms. She felt like a bloody idiot, being treated for shock. She'd survived two comas, gunshots, car crashes and all sorts, and yet some stupid bloody hospital insisted on admitting her for shock, just because she'd gone a little bit cold and shaky. Well, how would _anyone_ react when they'd just seen an unwilling party taking her route home?

This should have been her day. She'd made so much progress. She had people on her side, she had options to explore, Gene's identity should have been on the way to confirmation and _she_ should have been the one with a bullet through her flesh as her soul travelled back to another world.

She'd come so close and yet something had gone wrong; so horribly wrong for _all_ of them. She closed her eyes and shook her head, desperately trying to work out how she could turn things around and get back to Gene. She'd been so close that she could almost feel him there beside her and now she needed to find another way. Her heart was breaking but her resolve was stronger than ever. If she'd come that close once she could do it again, _whatever_ she needed to do.

_My name is Alex Drake. I haven't been shot so I haven't been sent back to nineteen ninety seven. My body healed fifteen years in the future so I woke up in the wrong world and the wrong life and now I need to get home. Somehow things have taken a wrong turning but the journey isn't over yet and I know I'll find a way. However long it takes I'm going to keep on fighting because there's a world that needs me as much as I need it. I'm not going to let Gene down._

~xXx~

_I'm still alive. I'm still fighting. I'm still out there, somewhere._

_My watch must have been a warning; a warning I ignored…. Or maybe just didn't understand._

_Suddenly the sound of the kitchen clock isn't so annoying any more. In fact, it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard._

Robin strode at speed through the cold January air. He barely felt it, even though he'd forgotten to put on a coat. The shock had numbed his skin.. All he could feel was the beating of his heart as he reminded himself again and again that _it_ was still beating out there too, on the other side of the line between life and death.

He thought he had lost her. _Kim._ He thought he was trapped forever in the past and that years or decades might pass without seeing her again. It had taken thinking that he had lost her to realise for certain what he'd been scared to admit; that she was the one. It was her. It was _always_ going to be her. As strange and unexpected as it had been, their relationship was as solid as a rock. In fact, it was as solid as one of those cakes he'd been stupid enough to try in the canteen earlier on.

But being alive wasn't the only shock he'd had that day. Kim had some news for him and now he had _two_ reasons to get home. Surely there was a reason he'd been sent back instead of Alex. Now he needed to find out what it was and get back to the land of the living because the ring now sitting on his finger showed him that was where he belonged.

_My name is Robin Thomas. I've been shot by a bullet that wasn't meant for me and now I need to find a way home to two thousand and twelve. There is a whole new life starting for me there and I am not prepared to let it go without a fight because this time I deserve to hold onto my happiness, and I'm going to fight my way back, whatever it takes._

~xXx~

_I didn't know… how the hell didn't I know? _

_All those weeks I took the piss out of him, it was my fault all along._

_I don't want to do this on my own. That world isn't allowed to take him away from me. Not now._

Kim pushed the tray away from her as soon as the nurse laid it down. Comments about needing to eat to keep her strength up just made Kim offer a few rude gestures and a selection of theories about what exactly had gone into the rubbery lasagne before her. Certainly it wasn't something she was going to subject her taste buds to. Maybe she'd been spoilt by Robin's cooking.

Beneath the hospital sheets one hand rose to her stomach and she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to take in the news. _Nine weeks_… she felt like a fool for not realising, but she was used to spending her days examining the inside of the toilet bowl in early pregnancy. When your boyfriend's stolen all your symptoms it _can_ be a bit misleading.

She looked at the clock. Why was there no news yet? How long was this bloody surgery going to take? Exactly what path had that fucking bullet taken? She knew Robin was tough enough to survive the operation. He _had_ to be. She was counting on it. It had taken her eight years to find happiness after coming back from that world. She wasn't going to let the world take away the source of that joy now.

_My name is Kim Stringer. I'm caught up in the middle of a big metaphysical mess and I don't know where I was supposed to end up. I have shitty luck with getting hit by cars and cracking my ribs but apart from that I seem to be surviving. But now there are two people on the wrong sides of the line and I need to help them both find a way to make it back to where they are supposed to be. I don't know how. I don't know when. But I'm going to make those bloody worlds sit up and listen._

~xXx~

_My name is Evan White. I was sent to prison for having a really crappy beard (and something to do with fraternising with known criminals as well) and now I spend my days dreading the arrival of Geoff and his razor. I may be one second away from having facial hair. I may be one second away from being clean-shaven. All I know is that I have to keep fighting. Fight to get my modelling career back. Fight to put Gillette out of business. Fight to grow a new beard._

_Oh, and I heard Arthur Layton might be on the war path. So I might want to stay out of his way, too._

_I wonder if he likes beards?_

_**~xXx~**_

_**Author's Note:**_

_**What Do You Want From Me? Is the sequel to Eyes of Blue. The title is taken from a song released in 1997 – songs from that year will feature prominently since a) it was one of the best years of my life and I'm having fun revisiting the music and b) there are FAR too many songs that are oddly appropriate that were released that year!**_

_**This story follows on directly from Eyes of Blue and is meant to be read as a sort of second part to it, like a 2-part episode of a TV show. No, Eyes of Blue didn't have a nice, neat, happy ending. Guess what else doesn't have one of those? Life! If life wrapped up neatly into happy little chapters then the world would be a very different place. Since life doesn't work that way, why should fiction? :)**_

_**A recap of the story so far from Eyes of Blue: Alex had woken from her coma in 2011 and was fighting to find a way back to the nineties, while Gene wasn't coping well without her and almost decided to leave his world and head to the pub. While trying to get home something went wrong and Robin took a bullet that Alex felt sure was meant to be her route back to Gene. Now both Alex and Robin are on the wrong sides of the line between life and death and need to get back to where they want to be.**_

_**For those of you interested in the poll results during Eyes of Blue, the first poll came out very close, with 5 votes for Simon and 3 for Kim. The second was a surprising landslide for Kim who got 7 votes compared to 1 for Simon!**_

_**This story is going to be fairly dark in some places, but as always there's surreal humour to balance it out. Rating may or may not rise to M at some point for darker themes and possible Evan beard regrowth… Also, as you are aware there is a troublesome young lady about to be born within the next 2 weeks – if I go quiet you will know why! Obviously after her arrival it will be harder to update but from previous experience there will be a fair amount of one-handed typing going on in the early days after she's born so hopefully I will still be updating a couple of times a week.**_

_**All the usual disclaimers apply, don't own A2A or anyone in it, which in the case of Evan I am very glad about *shudders***_

_**(Ugh, I do own Geoff though :-/ that's not good!)**_


	2. Chapter 1: Tied to the 90s

**Chapter One**

Gene grumbled and swore at the insistent knocking at the door.

"Alright, alright, keep yer fist on," he mumbled, gripping the brandy bottle in one hand. He slouched to the front door and opened it to find a very distressed Robin outside.

"I'm _alive?"_ he cried.

Gene stared at him; his hair was flopping all over the place, his skin covered in goosebumps from the cold and his eyes wide and confused.

"_Well, come in, do take a seat, have you had a pleasant day? Oh, it's been marvellous,"_ Gene mocked, "what sort of bloody greeting is that?"

Robin barely heard. He pushed in past Gene and tried to cool himself down a little.

"I'm alive," he said, this time as a statement rather than a question, "how the hell am I alive?" before Gene could reply he added, "and why didn't you _tell_ me?"

"Thought you knew," Gene frowned.

_"Knew?"_ cried Robin, "I've spent the last three days staring at a dead watch!"

"Well what did you think I was talking about, making the most of yer time with Simon while you were here?" Gene asked crossly.

"I thought you meant… I just thought you meant in _general_," cried Robin, "I thought I was dead, I thought you were talking about a permanent thing! You never said _'while you're here'!"_

"Didn't think I needed to!" Gene told him indignantly.

Robin spun around, the nervous energy in his body taking control of his limbs.

"So what am I supposed to do now?" he cried, "how am I supposed to get home?"

"You've been here before, Batman," Gene reminded him, "You know it happens when and if it happens."

"_Shit –"_ Robin spun around one more time and found himself gravitating towards the sofa. He sank down, shaking his head and covered his face with his fingers. He took a few deep breaths to calm down before he finally looked back at Gene.

"I had a message," he said quietly.

"Yeah, well you're not the only one and I'm not used to the bloody things so if you can get yer uniform and dog-repelling socks and be on yer way I'd like to spend some time alone with yer alcohol and me thoughts to work out what it's supposed to mean."

Robin didn't hear a word Gene said.

"Kim's pregnant," he said quietly.

That caught Gene's attention.

"Bloody hell," he looked up and scratched his head, "How did you manage that?"

Robin's expression reflected a mixture of annoyance and disbelief.

"That's not very nice!" he said a little pathetically, too tired to have a proper go at him.

"No offence Batman, I just thought you might have been sticking it in the wrong place for that to happen."

Robin only decided to let that one pass for the sheer fact that Gene was the one person who might understand what he was going through.

"Yeah, _well,"_ he began a little crossly, "we'd been trying. She's had miscarriages. It's been hard."

Gene felt a little guilty now. He sank down onto a matching chair and passed the brandy bottle to Robin.

"Here," he said, "you might need this more than me."

"Thanks," Robin said quietly. He took the bottle and drank from it quickly, wishing that the answers were hidden away inside it somehow. Eventually he placed the bottle down on the floor and looked back at Gene. "So what do I do?" he asked, "I have to get back. Now I know that I've still got a chance, I need to find my way out of here. I've got a baby on the way, and –" he frowned and stared at his hand, "and apparently a fiancée… even though no one actually had a chance to propose…"

"Well, it's better that way than falling down an 'ole before you pop the question," Gene told him. Robin had no idea what he was talking about so he politely ignored that comment. He looked at him, just hoping that he'd have something more substantial than an _'I don't know'_ to offer to his questions.

"How do I get back to her?"

Gene shook his head. It was never that simple.

"Sorry," he said, "No fire exit out of this place, Robin," then countered with his own question, "how do _I_ make sense of messages that come from _Teletubbies_ and the bloody _Joy of Painting?"_

Robin stared at him blankly, then he looked at the bottle in his hands to see how much Gene had actually consumed. Not very much apparently.

"What?"

Gene shook his head. He wasn't sure he was ready to expand upon it.

"Doesn't matter," he said, "suppose it's about time I had something to figure out of me own."

With that, two men fell silently, trying to understand the messages they'd received that night. Far away, two women were trying to work out the same questions from the other side of the line.

**~xXx~**

**2012, Sunday 8****th**** January, just past midday**

It was strange how the single noise, the lone gunshot, spoke right to their instincts and both Alex and Kim knew. They just _knew_. As they both ran towards the shop they each feared the loss of something; Kim of Robin, and Alex of her way home. Something told her inside that the bullet had been meant for her. It should have been her way back. As it was, she could only press forward, running awkwardly with her belly weighing her down towards the chaotic shop front to find out once and for all whether her instincts were correct.

She followed on behind Kim who strode way ahead, screaming Robin's name over and over again. Alex couldn't remember ever seeing her so scared. Kim held little fear when it came to her own safety but if someone important to her was at risk she couldn't keep a lid on those emotions. Alex tried to call to her, to tell her to stay calm and to slow down but she couldn't get her words out, and Kim wouldn't have listened anyway.

They'd only been running for a few seconds, and yet time had slowed down to a strange pace, making their dash feel like it had been going on for an hour. There was a screeching sound nearby, like car tyres. It had been getting closer but the alarm and the screaming had drowned it out somewhat. Just as Alex started to question it the vehicle finally came into plain sight, skidding and flailing across the road. What the hell was wrong? Had it blown a tyre or something? Or had the driver simply lost his nerve? Either way it only added to the shouting and screaming of the crowd as it tore along the road toward the store to pick up the raiders and any loot they'd bagged, but there was an obstacle in its path that was made of flesh and bone.

The moment the car struck Kim and her body skipped and skimmed across the bonnet before dropping to the floor Alex felt herself turn icy cold from head to toe. It was as though her hope died inside, all over again; her emotions torn between two things – her worry for her friend and the possibility that she'd just missed her second chance. Was the _car_ meant to be for her? Was _that_ how she was supposed to get back? She found herself panicking and crying out in anguish as she saw her path back to the nineties fading before her and two of her friends slipping away from her.

She came to a halt beside Kim and knelt by her side. Her eyes were closed and her body stock-still.

"_Kim,"_ she called her name again and again, "Kim, can you hear me? Come on, wake up, Kim –"

She was afraid to move her, scared of doing any more damage. She felt all of her knowledge and all of her logic fading away. She should have been able to stay calm but she felt awash with dread and panic.

The sound of sirens heading towards her was a welcome noise. She looked down at Kim, ran a comforting hand gently through the front of her blonde crop and prayed silently that one of those sirens belonged to an ambulance, but the sound of a screaming female voice pulled her attention away from Kim for a moment as someone cried from the shop front;

"_Please, someone, help – there's a man who's been shot –"_

For a moment Alex had almost forgotten about the gunshot and Robin. Her attention had been taken by Kim's plight; one definite, confirmed accident taking priority over a possibility that she hadn't seen for sure with her own eyes. She could see an ambulance parking just feet away and peered down at Kim.

"You'll be in safe hands now," she whispered, feeling guilty about leaving her but she needed to see for herself what had happened inside the shop. She got to her feet and ran to the door, peering inside to see Hayley and a random customer huddling over a body, all folded and crumpled on the ground. Although he was faced downward, blood seeping through the back of his shirt and pooling on the floor around him, Alex didn't need to see his features to know who it was. There was no question. She started to shake and tremble terribly as the gravity of the situation began to sink in; around her the two allies she had in the real world were hurt and dying, while her path home had been taken by the wrong people. She turned icy cold from head to toe. It was too hard to take it all in. It was too painful to think about.

"_It was not supposed to be like this,"_ she whispered as she stared on while paramedics rushed past her to tend to Robin's still and lifeless body, _"this was my route home."_

But fate held little regard for her plans that day. Its own were all-important and Alex's pleas had been left out of the equation.

"_This isn't fair… none of this is fair…" _she cried, _"and I don't know how to make it better…"_

Overwhelmed by anguish, she dropped to her knees in the doorway, shivering and shaking. She wanted to cry but she felt to numb. They had come so far and yet, ultimately, life had different plans for them. Where was there to go after this?

**X**

_# …We're tied to the 90's_

_In the middle_

_I'm terribly frightened_

_I'm taking it fast_

_Taking it slow_

_There's thunder and lightning_

_It's terribly frightening_

_Lord knows_

_Where it goes_

_But I know_

_That if so_

_Well I want to tell you_

_We're tired of the 90's_

_We're tired of the 90's_

_But we're tied to the 90's_

_Tied to the 90's… #_

_- Tied to the 90s - Travis_


	3. Chapter 2: Tomorrow

**Chapter Two**

Alex felt stupid and frustrated as she sat on the edge of the hospital bed. She shouldn't have been there. She wasn't the one who'd been at the end of a car or a bullet. The paramedics had swept her up in the aftermath, concerned about her state as she shook and shivered. Taking her to hospital with shock, they'd checked her blood pressure so many times that her arm felt numb and the whole thing left her feeling like a fool. Eventually a doctor came round with a clipboard. Alex would have quite liked the clipboard. It would have given her something to start making lists on.

"Alex," the doctor looked at her notes then up at her, "Alex Drake?" he asked.

"Yes," Alex said quietly.

"The good news is your blood pressure has returned to normal and you should be able to leave soon," he told her, "I'd like one of the midwives to come up and check you with the Doppler to make sure your baby is alright and then you're free to leave. If you start feeling unwell, cold or shaky at any point, please do the sensible thing and come back in."

Alex nodded slowly. If it wasn't for the baby she'd have boycotted the idea of being checked over completely but she wasn't her own top priority and wanted to make sure the little one hadn't been affected by the shock.

"I need to know what's happening with my friends," she said.

"That's Kimberley Stringer and –" the doctor ran out of useful notes.

"Robin Thomas."

The doctor nodded.

"Someone will want to speak to you about them before you leave," he said.

That sounded alarming.

"They will?" asked.

"We need to contact family," The doctor explained, "next of kin for both of them. We have checked their personal affects but we can't find any details."

Alex felt somewhat sad as she thought about their situations. Between the death of Robin's mother at the hands of his father and Kim's estrangement from her family she didn't see the doctor getting any such details.

"They don't have any," she said quietly.

"Neither of them?"

Alex thought about Kim's admission, the ring she'd bought earlier, and gave a sad sigh.

"They're… sort of each other's," she said quietly.

"This is difficult," the doctor remarked.

Oh dear. Well _that_ didn't sound good.

"In what way difficult?" Alex asked incredulously.

The doctor took in a deep breath which he let out slowly, composing his thoughts.

"We really do need to contact family," he said.

"That's not answering my question," Alex told him.

The doctor didn't want to lump any extra pressure onto a patient, especially not a pregnant one whose blood pressure had been all over the place. But if Kim and Robin had no family or next of kin then the person who seemed to know them best would have to do for now.

"Alright.," he began, "Ms Stringer is under heavy sedation at the moment. We need to prevent her from moving too much until we have been able to assess any possible damage to her spine. She has been lucid briefly and was clearly in a great deal of pain. It was safer to sedate her to prevent her from causing herself any damage."

Alex's eyes closed for a moment as her heart went out to her. She couldn't stand the thought of her being in so much pain, and if she was having periods of lucidity before the sedation then it seemed that the car at least wasn't supposed to be Alex's route home. The one thought that she'd tried to keep as a positive until that point was the idea that if Robin was back in the other world then at least Kim was with him, but it seemed even they weren't together.

"When will you know if there's any permanent damage?" she asked quietly.

"We'll be taking her for a series of scans and x-rays shortly," the doctor told her, "do you know Kim very well?"

Alex nodded.

"Yes, why?"

"I know it's a personal question, but is there any possibility that she may be pregnant?" the doctor asked.

"Why?"

"We'd need to know before we carry out any x-rays," the doctor explained, "if she is then it could harm the foetus."

Alex felt herself hesitating.

"Not as far as I know," she said, "but I do know she's been trying." She paused, some kind of female intuition coming into play, "please don't think I'm paranoid, but something's worrying me about what you said… can you make sure before you send her for the x-rays?" she paused, "not that I'm telling you how to do your job…"

"If there's any chance we'll take precautions," the doctor assured her. He cursed himself for wanting to make a joke along the lines of '_which is more than the patient did…'_ He must have wanted to say that a hundred times or more. Trying to be professional, he cleared his throat. "There is a shield we can use to protect the area from radiation and we'll make sure we get her tested ASAP."

"Thank you," Alex nodded. She paused for a moment, "and what about Robin?"

The doctor's expression became altogether more grim.

"Mister Thomas has lost a lot of blood," he began, "and he is continuing to do so. His heart stopped for some time but he was resuscitated at the scene. We need to stabilise his SATS before we are able to operate unless the speed of the blood loss increases. We won't know the severity of his internal injuries until we start operating to remove the bullet."

"Shit" Alex closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Even if the bullet _had_ been the path meant for her, the thought if it chilled her to the bone.

"We'll update you when we have some news," the doctor promised. He gave her a sympathetic smile which didn't really go very far towards compensating for two close friends who were lying in hospital with various serious injuries. "I'll find that midwife to check the baby over and then you'll be free to get dressed and leave."

"Thank you," Alex said quietly. She found her head drooping as the doctor left. Her heart was breaking in so many ways. She should have been home… _should have been home…_

"DI Drake?"

Alex wasn't expecting to hear anyone call her name. She looked up and saw a familiar face at the door. It took her a few moments though to realise who it was.

"Miss Ford," She said in surprise.

"Hayley, please," Hayley said quietly with a weak smile as she stepped forward. He looked at Alex a little nervously. "Is it alright if I speak to you?"

Alex adjusted her hospital smock to make sure she was decent.

"Y-yes, of course," she said quickly, "what are you doing here? Were you hurt in the robbery?"

"Just suffered shock," Hayley said with a little embarrassment, "they insisted on bringing me in. I'd rather have avoided the whole thing."

"That makes two of us," Alex said with a nervous smile.

Hayley sat down in a hard plastic chair, looking a little sheepish.

"The man in the shop," she said, "the one who got shot. I didn't realise he was another police officer."

"You would have met him tomorrow," Alex said quietly, "he was only really there to get his watch fixed. It just," she swallowed as she remembered the implications, "it just stopped. Coincidentally."

"Sadly we couldn't fix it," Hayley said apologetically, still fretting about that, "At least he found a ring he liked."

Alex frowned.

"What ring?"

"Bought one just before the bloody raid," Hayley started to feel angry. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "That's what I'm here about, actually." She looked at Alex nervously, "I… please don't think I'm crazy…"

Alex gave a distant smile.

"Unlikely," she said, thinking of some of the things that she had experienced herself.

"It's just… I can't get this out my mind," Hayley said quietly. She looked at Alex seriously. "I didn't even realise what the date was. It usually gets to me a little but the last few weeks had been extra busy and I didn't realise it was the eighth."

Alex stared at her.

"What's significant about the eighth?" she asked.

"Fifteen years ago today there was another robbery," Hayley explained, "same shop. My mother was working that day. She was shot when she tried to activate the direct alarm to the police. She pulled through but her nerves were never the same and she took early retirement."

Alex hesitated. She remembered reading about Hayley's predecessor stopping work. So _that_ was why.

"I'm so sorry," he said, "this must brring back some terrible memories."

"That's not it," Hayley said. Her face looked pale and haunted. "I know how this is going to sound."

Alex hesitated.

"How… _what_ is going to sound?"

Hayley let out her breath.

"I didn't knit up the name at the time but the coincidence…" she shook her head. "During the raid in ninety seven there were some detectives from another station outside. It was just luck they were there but they stopped the robbers when they fled the shop. I am absolutely certain one of them was called," she flinched, knowing how stupid it sounded, "_Gene Hunt."_ She looked back at Alex whose expression was copletely frozen, "that… that _is_ the same name, isn't it? The relative? The one you wanted me to help get identified?"

Alex wasn't sure she had understood. She thought about asking to have her ears syringed while she happened to be at the hospital. She blinked a few times and tried to pull herself out of her daze.

"y-yes," she said quickly, "are you sure? You didn't recognise the name earlier –"

"I wasn't thinking about the robbery earlier," Hayley pointed out, "after I realised today's date while I was waiting for them to stop taking my damn blood pressure so many times it came to me." She shook her head slowly, "I know it sounds bizarre –"

"I've heard worse," Alex said nervously. She paused, "but… but how can you be sure about the name? It was a long time ago…"

"Silly really," Hayley sighed, "I just remembered a stupid headline on a local paper. You see, the detectives weren't local. They were from London. My mother didn't get to thank them for their part in stopping the robbers. The local paper ran a headline, something like '_The Hunt for Gene'_, trying to track him down to express our gratitude."

Alex found herself shaking again. She hoped she could calm herself down before the midwife arrived with the Doppler, otherwise that stupid blood pressure machine would be going off every two minutes again.

"That's quite a coincidence," she whispered.

Hayley looked a little sheepish.

"I don't know if it's some sort of sign or what. But…" she sighed, "I'd still like to help you. With the identification of the unknown PC. I'm still going to go and speak to someone about trying to prove who he was. I'm going to try to do it tomorrow."

Despite everything there was a flutter in Alex's chest and a tiny smile spread across her lips. She closed her eyes momentarily and whispered,

"That would be wonderful," she took a deep breath. "Thank you, Hayley. Thank you so much."

Hayley smiled back, but her expression soon dropped.

"The young man who was shot," she began, "is there any news on him?"

Ales found her own smile fading.

"No," she whispered, "not yet. It's not looking good."

"I'm so sorry," Hayley said quietly, "I'll pray for him."

Alex gave her a weak smile as she waved a goodbye. Out of the blue a hopeless situation had suddenly taken a strange and hopeful direction. Suddenly there were turns and parallels that she had never expected and she felt a burst of hope in her heart. She didn't dare think too deeply into it yet, but the spark of a possibility was there.

Suddenly she had something to hold onto.

**~xXx~**

**1997**

"I think," Gene said out loud to the empty flat, "that I am going to have to do this the DCI Drake way."

He wished it hadn't come to this. Gene Hunt didn't _do_ girly notepads. But Gene Hunt didn't do cryptic messages over the television either, so this was an emergency situation. After he'd managed to boot Robin out with brandy and clean clothes he'd started pacing and thinking, trying to work out exactly what he'd seen. The television thing… that was supposed to be for the lucky ones who were still alive. He'd had no need for deciphering messages before now. He'd been fairly glad of that, they always made those who received them sound like a bunch of loonies.

Now he'd had his own he had stared to worry that her would never work them out. He was worried about his memory, too. It wasn't always the best. He wasn't Memory Man of Fenchurch, that was for certain. He didn't want to forget any important details so eventually he conceded.

"Heaven help me street cred," he mumbled. There seemed to be no other choice.

Slowly he paced to the kitchen and started rummaging through drawers and cupboards. There had to be one there somewhere. Even though the flat technically was no longer Alex's, if there was a _hint_ of her left on the premises then there would be one tucked away somewhere – and there, in the back of a drawer, he found what he was looking for.

"Bloody notebooks," he mumbled.

He made sure he locked the door and drew the blinds. He didn't want to risk anyone seeing him do the _Drakey _thing and actually make use of a notebook instead of his fists and a bottle of scotch. But just this once it seemed like the way forward. He needed to make sure he didn't lose any important facts and this was the one way he knew he would get them all down.

"Bols, you've reduced me to a list-making nancy boy," Gene complained as he found a pen and sat at the kitchen table. He sighed deeply as he tried to remember all the programmes he'd seen flicking by on the TV and the messages they had for him. He couldn't help thinking that Alex was so much better at this than he was. He didn't seem able to make a concise list of coherent thoughts; instead his page filled up with rambling comments and insults about the various people who had appeared on the screen.

Within half an hour his page read;

_- Painting twat with stupid hair_

_- Insultingly proportioned painting of Bols, top half needed to be at least 2 cup sizes bigger_

_- Bloody Changing Rooms, need to punch Carol Smilie's face in._

_- Redecorating the flat, get rid of nerd junk before Alex comes home_

_- Live TV, snogging. This was the best programme of the night._

_- Retuning Bolly for channel 5? Where does she keep her bloody aerial? _

_- Videos. What has Keats got in his basement?_

_- Teletubbies, Dipsy rubbing me nose in it, little green bastard._

_- Layton? Why was he in Teletubbies, what's be been selling them?_

_- Did Tinky Winky have an empire back in the day?_

_- Casualty, overdose – Layton again?_

_- 'He started it, has to finish it'. Here and there?_

_- This is stupid, I hate lists._

He sat back and studied his notes. They weren't quite up to Alex's standard but they weren't as bad as he was expecting. He sighed as he cast his eye over some of his written words.

"The only problem is, Bols," he mumbled, "I need you back here to help me make sense of this crap."

He supposed that he would have to rely on Simon and Robin instead. They were both nerds, he was sure they were better with lists than he was. Tomorrow he'd tell them. He'd explain everything, as hard as it would be to admit that he'd received a message. That wasn't his territory. It made him feel uncomfortable and out of his depth.

He glanced at the TV warily. Whether any more messages would come through he had no idea but he was going to be watching a bit more of the box than usual from now on.

**X**

_# …I see you falling_

_how long to go before you hit the ground_

_You keep on screaming_

_Don't you see me here.. am I a ghost to you?_

_Now your grips too strong_

_You can't catch love with a net or a gun_

_Gotta keep faith that your path will change_

_Gotta keep faith that your luck will change tomorrow_

_tomorrow_

_Why are you phoning_

_What am I to do when you're miles away_

_You're always calling_

_From the darkest rooms... and we're both scared_

_Now your grips too strong_

_You can't catch love with a net or a gun_

_Gotta keep faith that your path will change_

_Gotta keep faith that your luck will change_

_Now your grips too strong_

_Can't catch love with a net or a gun_

_Gotta keep faith that your path will change_

_Gotta keep faith that your luck will change,_

_Tomorrow.._

_I'm just out of your range_

_tomorrow_

_all your suffering's in vain_

_tomorrow_

_lalala_

_Now your grips too strong_

_You can't catch love with a net or a gun_

_Gotta keep faith that your path will change_

_Gotta keep faith that your love will change tomorrow_

_I'm out of your range_

_tomorrow_

_all your suffering seems vain, change_

_tomorrow_

_some forgiveness now_

_tomorrow_

_love's no sacred cow… #_

_- Tomorrow by James_


	4. Chapter 3: Put Your Arms Around Me

**Chapter Three**

**2012**

"May I talk to you?"

The tone of the doctor worried Alex as he appeared in the doorway.

"Um… yes?" she said anxiously.

The midwife finished cleaning the gel from Alex's abdomen.

"I've just finished here," She said, "Nice strong heartbeat. Baby seems fine. But if you experience anything unusual or anything that worries you, always get it checked out."

"Of course," Alex nodded

The midwife took the doppler away and the doctor approached Alex. He sat down in front of her and regarded her seriously.

"Alright, I have an update on Kim," he began, "the good news is that she seems to have avoided damage to her spine."

Alex let out her breath. She didn't even realise she'd been holding it.

"Thank god," she said quietly.

"She has suffered two fractured ribs, unfortunately," the doctor continued, "requesting her medical records, it looks like she's received the same injury before so it's likely that's a weakness for her."

"Oh, poor Kim," Alex sighed.

"Sadly there's little we can do except for providing her with good pain relief. It will take a while for her to recover, she'll need to take some time off work."

"But she's OK?" Alex asked.

The doctor hesitated.

"At the moment it looks like she's been lucky," he said, "her injuries could have been far worse. We're taking her off the sedation, she should start to regain consciousness soon."

"That's good," Alex said a little cautiously, aware that the doctor's manner suggested there was still news to come. Eventually he cleared his throat.

"Also, Alex, you should be glad you trusted your instincts," he began, "Tests have confirmed that Kim _is_ pregnant."

Alex's eye widened. Even though she'd been the one to mention it she was still surprised to hear it.

"Oh my goodness," she breathed. She found herself feeling increasingly anxious for Kim. The timing couldn't have been any worse. With Robin's situation so serious she couldn't imagine how Kim would cope. "The x-rays…?"

"We used a shield to protect the baby," the doctor assured her, "but we _are_ concerned that she seems to be having a moderate amount of bleeding."

As soon as she heard those words her heart sank. She knew about Kim's history, she knew about the miscarriages and how deeply they had affected her and Robin. If this was going to be a case of bad news immediately following good then she wasn't sure Kim could handle it.

"She's miscarried before," she whispered.

"We're waiting on the portable ultrasound machine," the doctor told her, "it should be down in the next ten minutes or so and then we can get a better idea of what's going on."

"Can I sit with her?" Alex asked quickly.

"We'd be glad if you did," the doctor told her, "she should be waking up soon and it will be good for her to have somebody with her."

"What should I do?" she asked, "what should I say to her?"

"The important thing is to keep her as calm and relaxed as possible," the doctor began, "try to keep her still and composed. Reassure her that she's alright, and that she's being looked after."

Alex nodded.

"OK," she said quietly.

"Your discharge forms are on their way," the doctor told her "and then someone will take you down to Kim. Can you walk or would you like a wheelchair?"

Alex frowned.

"I was in shock, I didn't have a steam roller crushing my foot," she said.

**~xXx~**

**1997**

"Can we talk?"

Simon was confused. He'd only just arrived back with the pizza ingredients. Surprised to find the lounge dark, he'd taken them through to the kitchen and found Robin sitting with the light off. After screaming like an idiot and running in circles of fear a few times he realised that things were not as scary as they'd first seemed, but now that the light was on and he was looking at Robin he could see not all was well.

"Pardon?" he asked, looking at his serious expression.

"I really need to talk to you," Robin said quietly.

"I thought that's what we were going to do," Simon frowned, "you were going to cook and we were going to talk thing over. That's why I just bought this stuff."

"This isn't going to wait until after I've made two pizzas," Robin told him quietly.

Simon stared at the brandy bottle on the table.

"Since when did you drink, Robin?" he asked.

"Since when did _you?"_ Robin countered. He knew from Kim and Alex that Simon had turned increasingly to alcohol after they were separated by life and death. He didn't want to start another argument though so he pointed to the chair. "Can you sit down for a minute, Si?"

Simon hesitated. He stood the shopping bags on the floor and then nervously pulled out the chair opposite.

"What's all this about?" he asked.

Robin pointed to the clock on the wall.

"What time do you see up there?" he asked.

Simon glanced up.

Eleven forty-eight," he said quietly, "that's all I ever see."

"And what time do you see on this?" Robin extended his wrist where his broken watch still sat.

"The same," Simon told him, "what's all this about?"

Robin looked at his watch and took a deep breath.

"Time," he began quietly, "this says it's around midday." He looked up at the kitchen clock, "but that one up there says it's coming to seven. And it's ticking… god, it's so bloody loud, it wakes me up in the night."

"I don't…" Simon frowned, "I can't hear it, and I don't understand."

Robin bit his lip.

"I'm still alive," he whispered, his voice shaking.

Simon stared at him. He thought it was some kind of joke at first but he was deadly serious. He frowned and looked from his face to his watch.

"But your watch had stopped, "he began, "you told me"

"Yes," Robin nodded, "it did. It's still dead. It hasn't moved. It never will. But that clock… and the one at the station… and the one in that Latte place that Gene made me go to three times earlier on… they're all ticking. And so is my heart, out there."

"Rob, listen," Simon began quietly, "when you first come here it's a shock and I can understand you wanting to cling onto some hope –"

"I had a message from home," Robin said quietly, "I'd given up the thought that there was any chance I was still alive. I hadn't seen or heard a thing since I got here. But tonight…"

Simon stared at him. He could feel himself shaking just a little.

"Go on," he whispered.

"It came over the TV," Robin said quietly, "I had some news."

"What kind of news?" Simon asked, "What did you see? Was it the hospital? Did you hear how you were doing?"

"No," Robin said quietly. He looked Simon in the eye and drew in his courage. "It was Kim," he whispered, "She's -," his voice broke slightly with emotion, "She's pregnant."

As he stared at Robin in shock Simon felt as though his heart snapped in two all over again. Somehow, despite the difficulties they'd had between them since Robin arrived and even despite Robin being honest about the way he felt about Kim, up until that point Simon had still thought he had a chance in reigniting his relationship with Robin. Within moments, everything changed.

"She's what?" he whispered.

Robin felt his stomach churn as he saw the look on Simon's face.

"Kim's pregnant, Simon," he said quietly, "she's out there by my bed. She told me."

Simon just stared. He opened his mouth several times to speak but had to keep closing it again. There were not words to describe the way he felt; the angry burning inside of him, the darkness that had fallen like a cloak over his shoulders.

"So you, um," he coughed and cleared his throat but he still struggled to find the words. He took a deep breath and tried again, "you weren't using protection?"

Robin felt himself blushing to his roots. He looked down at the table and slipped his fingers into his hair to push it away from his face.

"Simon, this wasn't an accident," he said quietly.

Simon swallowed as he stared at Robin.

"You –"he swallowed. I was hard to even say it, "You actually wanted to have a baby?"

Robin nodded slowly.

"She's had miscarriages before," he began.

"Yes, I know," Simon said sharply.

"I didn't mean the one she had here," Robin said quietly.

Simon carried on staring. He didn't ask Robin to expand on that sentence. He already knew what he was saying and the thought of it was devastating. He was working hard at deluding himself into believing that Robin and Kim couldn't have really been that serious, but the more he heard, the harder it became to deny.

"So," he whispered, "you're still alive."

Robin nodded, biting on his lip.

"Yeah," he whispered.

Simon swallowed.

"You want to go back," he whispered.

Robin nodded.

"I need to go back," he whispered.

Simon found his eye drawn to Robin's finger. He reached out and pulled his hand toward him.

"What that?" he asked, his voice loaded with emotion.

Robin stared at the jewellery that had appeared that morning. He felt tears gathering in his eyes.

"It made it over, somehow," he whispered.

"But what _is_ it?" Simon repeated, somehow already knowing the answer.

"It's a ring," Robin whispered, "from Kim."

That was as much as Simon could take. He didn't want to lose his temper and he didn't want to get angry with Robin for something that was clearly tearing him apart but he couldn't stay where he was. He got to his feet and started to pace.

"I think we need to leave this for now," he said, his voice loaded with emotion.

"Simon –"

"I think I need some time," Simon said quietly. He looked at Robin. "Maybe you do, too."

Robin stared at Simon, his face falling.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. He breathed in deeply and held back the tears. He truly didn't want to hurt Simon and wished so hard that he could have somehow made him happy too. He felt trapped; stuck between following his heart and trying to save the feelings of someone he would never stop caring about. He closed his eyes as Simon left the room, wishing that there was something he could say to make things better. He'd gone through so many emotions in the last couple of hours that he wasn't sure how to calm himself down.

All he could do was to cling to the memory of Kim on the TV screen and hope that it wouldn't be the last message he would hear because as long as that clock kept ticking he still had a chance at getting home.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

His hands shook as he held it in his palm. It had been so long. So _very_ long.

His sunken skin, his hollow eyes and his scraggly hair were no different to how they had been before. Just because it had been months since his favourite kind of poison had flown through his veins didn't mean that the rest of his body bounced back. Too many years; too many hits.

He closed his eyes as he griped it tightly. He had waited patiently to get the goods. He was going to savour the moment, truly savour it. His mind had been in more of a mess without the stuff than with it, his desperation at his upcoming trial slowly killing him inside. Now, he deserved this pleasure. He'd earned it.

Arthur Layton was going to treasure the moment he sank that needle into his arm once again. It was going to be pure bliss.

**~xXx~**

_# …Are you ready maybe_

_Are you willing to run_

_Are you ready to let yourself drown_

_Are you holding your breath_

_Are you ready or not_

_Are you ready maybe_

_Do you long to confess_

_Do you feel that you're already numb_

_Are you sure of yourself_

_Would you lie if you're not_

_You tire me out_

_Don't wanna let that happen_

_A secret scream so loud_

_Why did you let that happen_

_Ooh ooh so put your arms around me_

_You let me believe that you are someone else_

_Ooh ooh cause only time can take you_

_So let me believe_

_That I am somewhere else_

_Maybe, are you ready to break_

_Do you think that I push you too far_

_Would you open yourself_

_Are you reckless or not_

_You tire me out_

_Don't wanna let that happen_

_A secret scream so loud_

_Why did you let that happen_

_Ooh ooh so put your arms around me_

_You let me believe that you are someone else_

_Ooh ooh cause only time can take you_

_So let me believe_

_That I am somewhere else_

_That I am somewhere else_

_Ooh ooh so put your arms around me_

_Ooh ooh so put your arms around me_

_Make me believe_

_Take me take me_

_Somewhere_

_Somewhere_

_Let me believe_

_Cause only time can take you_

_So stop …#_

_- Put Your Arms Around Me - Texas_


	5. Chapter 4: You're Not Alone

**Chapter Four**

**1997**

Gene opened one eye and stared at the unfeasibly bright sofas on the TV.

"_Good morning and welcome to GMTV!"_ some presenter who was made up of 80% grin and 20% cheese told him.

"Bugger off, it's too early for that," he told her and switched off the TV with extreme prejudice.

He'd fallen sleep with the TV on in the hope that something else might come through at some point. So far, nothing. It had been a strange night all in all. He'd taken one look at the bedroom and decided the couch was a better option. It might have had a different bed and different décor but it was still the room he was used to sharing with Alex; stealing the covers, getting an elbow in the rib for snoring, feeling her warm body beside him on cold winter nights. He couldn't have slept in there without her.

Besides, he didn't like the thought of sleeping in a room designed for a nerd. There were too many X-Files magazines and Red Dwarf posters around for his liking. He would have had nightmares about polymorphs and UFOs within moment of falling asleep. He was slightly annoyed that Robin's bed seemed bigger and more comfortable than the one he had in storage and wondered why he deserved the luxury of such a comfy place to sleep. Maybe it was bigger in case one of those damn dogs followed him home and curled up on the end of it?

That wasn't the only thing that Robin had been gifted either. He had a far better kitchen. He supposed that he deserved it, since cooking was his main hobby, apart apparently from drumming on small tins of beans, but Gene was slightly annoyed to find the kitchen stocked from wall to wall with fine ingredients that he supposed he'd have to send round to Robin, lest them go to waste. There wasn't a single tin of tuna or a packet of digestive biscuits amongst them.

He'd finally fallen asleep on the couch at some ridiculous hour after watching an endless stream of crap in the hope that he might catch a glimpse of Alex again. He'd watched so many infomercials for mops playing after closedown on the cable channels that he was developing a strong urge to go and clean the kitchen floor. Eventually he'd fallen asleep with ITV on in the background and had awoken to the Sofas From Hell.

He stared at the notebook on the table.

"I have officially turned into Bols," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes, "Need to check me vital statistics and see if I need a bloody bra an' all."

He grabbed the notebook and trudged to the kitchen to see if Robin's many ingredients included something that would go well in a pan full of lard before being placed between two slices of bread. He might not have been drinking much the night before but writing lists had given him a logic hangover.

**~xXx~**

**Pregnant Robin: An Opera In Six Acts**

SCENE ONE

_Fenchurch East Police Station, 2011. A young gentleman walks sadly through the corridor as a crowd of uniformed officers point, whisper and laugh. The young man has a large, round stomach which he rubs tenderly._

ROBIN:

Oh life is hard  
For the pregnant man  
When all you yearn for  
Comes in a can…

_(Large foam tin of beans enters, stage right)_

ROBIN:

No one can try  
To understand  
This wasn't quite  
The way round we planned…

_(Large foam tin of beans begins to chase pregnant man from stage)_

**~X~**

Robin woke with a start and a scream. He tumbled off the couch, landed heavily on the floor and spent several moments trying to work out who he was and what was going on.

"Oh _god,"_ he groaned, rubbing his eyes to try to clear away the terrible nightmare he'd been through.

It had been going on all night; an opera in 6 acts starring him as the world's first pregnant male chief inspector and his struggle to be accepted in society. He'd managed to get through over 4 of the 6 acts before he finally managed to wake himself up and pull himself from the terrible nightmare. Try as he might, he couldn't manage to get the labour scene out of his mind. He was going to be forever terrified of the word 'stirrup' too, especially with the intangible rhymes the opera had come up with for the word.

"Shit," he mumbled as he pulled himself back onto the couch. He thought about the cause of his nightmare and the mixed blessings around it. Things made more sense now, in a way. The ridiculous weeks of believing he was suffering from some kind of psychological issue, a hysterical pregnancy, and it turned out that the cause was a little closer to home. Oh, he couldn't understand why he had been the one suffering the symptoms instead but he did know it wasn't unheard of. He'd run into the concept of sympathetic pregnancy while trying to find out why he was suffering morning sickness and swollen ankles, but since Kim hadn't had any symptom herself and didn't think she was _expecting_ it hadn't been a consideration.

"All those fucking _beans_," he groaned, remembering the endless cans still stacked up back in 2012. He couldn't even face the thought of them now. Why had all his symptoms disappeared when he entered Gene's world? Was it because he was too far away from Kim? Or because she'd found out that she, rather than he, was the one with the baby growing inside them? Either way, he hoped and prayed that Kim was alright and coping. He just wanted to be there with her, to look after her, make sure she and the baby were alright. Instead he couldn't have been stuck further away.

For the first time since he arrived he was at least able to don fresh clothes. That would teach the stupid, foot-obsessed dog. The flat was quiet, as once again Simon has slipped out early to avoid anther confrontation. Robin had a feeling they would need to talk later on. The avoidance couldn't go on forever.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

Oh god, _everything_ hurt. There wasn't an inch that didn't seem to be bruised or scrazed. Kim tried to open her eyes but there was a bright light that forced them closed again.

"_Kim?"_

OK, someone was saying her name. She should probably make more of an effort to open her damn eyes then. She tried again, just a little way, and looked around. She could hear bleeping and other miscellaneous noises that gave away the fact she was in a hospital room.

"Shit," she mumbled, finally allowing some of the room to come into view, "What happened?" she could make out a face in front of her. "Ma'am?"

"Yes, Kim," Alex's voice was calm and relaxing, "you're alright. You were hit by a car, you've got some injuries to your ribs but you're going to be fine."

"Car?" Kim repeated, "What-" she paused as memories of the gunshot came back to her, "Oh god, the jewellery shop… _Rob_… Is _he_ alright?"

Alex did her best to avoid answering that.

"Just stay nice and calm, Kim," she said soothingly, "the doctors will be along to talk to you soon."

"Where's Robin?" Kim asked again. She looked at Alex with wide, scared eyes, "come on, Ma'am, don't bullshit me. If the shot was fired at him I need to know."

Alex swallowed. She couldn't keep it from Kim. If it had been Gene who'd taken a bullet she'd have wanted to know.

"Listen," she said quietly, "Robin _was_ shot. But they were able to revive him at the scene and they're working on stabilizing him right now so that they can operate to remove the bullet and repair the damage."

Kim swallowed, nauseous and anxious.

"When can I see him?" she asked, trying to sit up.

"No, Kim, just stay still and calm," Alex told her, holding her down gently with one hand.

"Why?" Kim frowned, "where is he? Can I see him before surgery?"

"Kim, he's in intensive care and it's not possible for you to see him yet," Alex said calmly, "besides, the doctors need to see _you."_

"I'm fine," Kim blatantly lied as shuffling a little sent shockwaves of pain through her chest.

"_See?"_ Alex admonished, "Stay where you are, stay still and relax, they'll be here soon."

"Will you stop telling me to stay still and calm?" Kim frowned, "what's going on?"

"Nothing."

_"Something_ is," Kim said crossly, "I told you not to bullshit me." she paused. "Is it Robin? There's something you're not telling me." she paused. "Or is it about me? There's something wrong?" her attention was caught by a woman wheeling in a strange machine on a trolley. "What's going on? Why are they bringing a telly in here?"

"Kim," Alex said quietly, "it's not a telly, just let them do their job. They just need to check you over."

"For what?" Kim asked, her voice becoming quieter and more anxious. The polite, friendly but silent smile of the lady wheeling the strange-looking TV towards her did little to calm her nerves. A second woman entered with some notes.

"Kimberley Stringer?" she asked.

_"Kim,"_ said Kim. She couldn't stand the name _Kimberley_ since Keats had insistently used it over and over."

"Kim, how are you feeling?" the woman asked.

"I…" Kim frowned, "I feel probably like _anyone_ would when they've been hit by a car. That's a stupid question," she paused and frowned, "What's going on?"

"We just need to check you over," the woman told her.

"See?" Alex added as though her point had been confirmed.

"But what –" Kim trailed away as her level of confusion heightened. The woman lowered her sheet and pulled up her smock, exposing her stomach before getting out a bottle of gel. While inside Kim knew what was happening the fact that it was happening to her simply confused her so deeply that she lost the ability to speak, and for Kim that was unheard of. She couldn't understand why they were coming at her with an ultrasound wand. This hadn't been done to her since she was 20 weeks pregnant with her second son. What was wrong, did she have some internal injuries? Was something bleeding in there? _Oh god,_ was she about to snuff it?

"There," the second woman pointed to something on the screen to show the first lady, "Looks healthy."

"What does?" Kim demanded, glad that at the very least the news sounded positive.

The two women seemed oblivious.

"Eight weeks?" the first woman asked.

The second shook her head.

"Check the measurements," she said, "I'd say nine."

"This had better not be how many weeks I've got to live," Kim looked at Alex in alarm.

The second woman pointed to an area on the screen.

"Look," she said.

The first woman nodded.

"Yup, I see it," she said.

"We'll keep a close watch on it," the second said.

Kim closed her eyes.

"If someone doesn't start talking to me _right now_ I am going to find the fullest bedpan in the hospital and empty it over both your heads," she cried.

The two women looked up a little nervously. While the first began to clean up Kim's stomach the second pulled a chair closer to the bed and started talking to her.

"I'm sorry about that," she said, "we needed to check on you. You've had some bleeding since the accident."

"What bleeding? Where?" Kim started to check herself over, "am I haemorrhaging or something?"

"Some bleeding from your uterus," The woman explained.

Kim went very quiet.

"Go on," she whispered.

"When you were brought in there were a series of X-rays taken to make sure that there was no damage to your spine and to check for broken bones," the woman explained, "because of the radiation, you were tested as a precaution for pregnancy, and the test came back positive." She paused to study Kim's expression, "Is this a surprise to you?"

Kim just stared. Anything after the word 'positive' had just been lost on her. In fact, everything around her lost meaning. Words, sounds, sights – she couldn't focus on _anything_ but that one word.

_Positive_.

Her eyes were wide and her mouth went dry. She swallowed several times, trying to regain the power of speech but her mind had gone into a daze.

"I," she whispered. She closed her eyes and licked her dry lips, "I haven't…. I've had no signs, I –"

"Well, it's not usual not to get symptoms until later on," the woman told her, "some women never really get many signs until they're a fair way in."

"But… but you don't understand," Kim said frantically, "I get morning sickness worse than Evan gets beard rash. Every time I've been pregnant I spend all day trapped in the bathroom. "

"Have you missed your period?"

"Well, yes," Kim frowned, "but I'm not exactly regular," she flushed bright pink. She didn't like talking about this kind of thing especially with medical professionals.

"You're about nine weeks pregnant, Kim," the woman told her gently.

"Nine weeks?" Kim cried. Her mouth fell open and she shook her head, "I'd have known. I can't be nine weeks."

The first woman carefully tore a picture from the strip she'd printed out and handed it to Kim.

"There's your baby," she said quietly.

Kim stared at the picture, holding the paper as though it might crumble in her grasp. She found herself shaking slightly as she focused on the black and white image. She felt disjointed from it, as though she couldn't believe what she was being shown. With a tremble in her voice she asked quietly,

"Is… is it alright?"

"The baby is looking very healthy right now," the woman told her.

"But you said there was bleeding?" Kim whispered.

"The scan has shown up a blood clot outside the sac," the woman told her, "we'll need to keep an eye on it, but the sac and the baby themselves are looking good and strong."

Kim felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped at the gesture. She looked up to see Alex looking at her with concern.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

Kim looked back at the picture.

"I... I don't know," she whispered, "I'm just… just shocked," her mind was spinning in circles. She couldn't focus on what was happening. It all felt a little surreal and she wasn't convinced that she wasn't unconscious and dreaming.

"Kim?" Once again Alex's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Kim looked up at her, her eyes full of shock and confusion, "_congratulations."_

Despite the terrible circumstances surrounding the discovery and the shock that Kim would be facing for some time as she tried to let the news sink in Alex knew how badly Kim had wanted this and didn't want her good news to be overshadowed by negativity. The warm smile she gave brought Kim's focus back to the positive – that the baby was healthy, that despite the accident the new life growing inside her was fighting hard and that the one thing she'd been wishing for had come true. She stared at the picture once again and felt butterflies filling her tummy and her heart. Out of the darkness a tiny light had appeared at the end of the tunnel. She just had to hope and pray that it would grow brighter from thereon in.

**~xXx~**

**1997**

Barely more than a kid, the young man handed over a bundle of notes and Arthur Layton flipped through them quickly. They were all there.

"Good," he said, "fantastic job tonight. You want to step up and take on a bit more, we'll talk about it tomorrow."

The kid gave a smug smile and nodded.

"Cheers," he said.

"Now get lost before anyone comes round," Layton told him, "I've seen the filth stepping up their stuff around this area. We might have to look at a new patch."

The kid nodded and hurried away, full of excitement about his future dealings with the man who would be Nailer's successor. He slipped his hand in his pocket and felt around for the small treat he'd kept back; the sample that he felt he deserved at the end of a long night. He'd been working all night long, now all he wanted was to go home, try out the goods for himself and sleep the day away.

**X**

An hour later, the boy was dead.

So were three other members of the Fenchurch community.

**~x~**

_#...In a way, it's all a matter of time_

_I will not worry for you, you'll be just fine_

_Take my thoughts with you, and when you look behind_

_You will surely see a face that you recognize_

_You're not alone, i'll wait till the end of time_

_Open your mind, surely it's plain to see_

_You're not alone, i'll wait till the end of time for you_

_Open your mind, surely there's time to be with me_

_It is the distance, that makes life a little hard_

_Two minds that once were close, now so many miles apart_

_I will not falter though, i'll hold on till you're home_

_Safely back where you belong, and see how our love has grown_

_You're not alone, i'll wait till the end of time_

_Open your mind, surely it's plain to see_

_You're not alone, i'll wait till the end of time for you_

_Open your mind, surely there's time to be with me…#_

_You're not alone - olive_

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Bollocks, I am actually wearing out my new keyboard that I got to replace the one on my laptop that, erm, I wore out :-/ So please forgive the increasing number of errors, I've had enough of the keys failing to work so I'm going to get another new one tomorrow!**_

_**Thank you to everyone who has joined the new story and I hope you will enjoy the journey – Although it will of course have its dark patches I hope that the (ridiculous) humour will lighten them and the story isn't all dark, I promise! Currently accepting food and sympathy parcels for Simon, please no toasters, he can't face any more of those… (I promise things will get better for him!)**_


	6. Chapter 5: One and One

**Chapter Five**

**2012**

Kim had been moved finally from A&E to a room of her own, although she wasn't planning to stay for anywhere near as long as the doctors were expecting her to. She was used to humouring medical professionals and then sneaking away as soon as physically possible. Her determination to escape the damn place was backed up by the moment a nurse delivered to her a piece of lasagne that looked like it had been sculpted from plastic and varnished twice. There was no way it was edible. She actually laughed when the nurse told her she needed to eat to keep her strength up.

"The only thing that will be coming up if I eat that is the bloody lasagne!" she told her.

Somehow the nurse still stubbornly refused to believe anyone in their right mind could turn down the wonderful cuisine before them and left the tray where it was with a large piece of chocolate cake that Kim fondly labelled _'poo pudding' _beside it. As though she could have eaten anyway. As though there was _any_ chance that her anxiety and fear about Robin as he underwent surgery wouldn't have killed her appetite stone dead. Even if she'd been served a plate of food made by Robin himself she wouldn't have been able to manage it.

Instead she sat, ignoring the strangely glue-like smell of the lasagne and focusing on the news that wouldn't quite sink in. It had been a few hours now since she'd discovered about the baby. She couldn't believe that she hadn't even had a clue, for all that time. She'd had all these wonderful, perfect ways planned out in her mind of telling Robin if or when the day came that she suspected she was expecting. None of them involved him undergoing extensive surgery while she sat on her own with gluey lasagne and poo pudding stinking out her hospital room.

With one hand over her stomach, just trying to take in the news, she begged and prayed silently for everything to be alright. She had only just found happiness, years and years after her spell of time in the nineties had taken it away from her. She wasn't going to let some damn bullet screw it up.

"_Hello."_

She looked up as a voice pulled her from her thought. A slightly nervous Alex came towards her. She was smiling but there were layers of worry and sadness behind it.

"Ma'am," Kim's own smile was weak and fairly unconvincing but it was the best she could do.

"How are you feeling?" Alex asked as she took a seat by the bed.

"About the same as when you asked before you went out fifteen minutes ago," Kim said quietly with a tiny smile, "put on a nurse's uniform and ask the question again and you'll get the big, smiley, song and dance _'I'm Fine'_ version of that though."

"Yeah, I've seen that before," Alex told her, a slightly stern note in her voice.

"Oh, come off it, you're a fine one to talk," Kim dismissed her concerns with a wave of the hand, "when did you ever follow medical advice? We all follow the same _'I'm Fine!_' routine to get out these places."

Alex couldn't argue. Kim had a very valid point.

"Fair enough," she said. She placed a thin white plastic bag on the bed. "I went to the hospital gift shop," she said, "I was going to buy you a crossword magazine but, well," she sighed, "then I remembered that crosswords make you want to strangle innocent bystanders so I bought you a tattoo magazine instead."

Kim smiled distantly as Alex took the magazine from the bag and laid it on the bed.

"Thanks," she whispered, remembering someone else presenting her with one in hospital a very long time ago. She wondered what else was in the bag and glanced at it curiously. "Anything else interesting in there?" she prompted.

"Define interesting?" asked Alex.

"Any presents for me?" Kim asked, "edible ones. Not grapes," she said quickly, thinking of Keats's hospital gift of choice.

"Are you telling me the hospital cuisine is not up to scratch?" Alex asked in mock surprise. He reached back into the bag and pulled out a packet of chocolate digestives. "I swear you have a sixth sense," she said, handing them to Kim.

"Oh, that's more like it," Kim sighed with relief. She might not have had an appetite yet but knew that she'd need something that didn't resemble varnish, glue or poo to tempt her when it did.

Alex tucked the biscuits away in the bedside drawer and started to fold up the empty bag. She just needed to give her hands something to focus on as she looked at Kim with concern.

"I spoke to one of the doctors," she said quietly, "Robin's likely to be in surgery for a while longer yet."

Kim's expression fell in an instant. Her skin grew pale and her heart seemed to seize up.

"Fuck," she whispered.

"They haven't managed to remove the bullet yet," Alex said quietly, "there was a lot of damage, a lot of internal bleeding; they're dealing with that first."

Kim nodded slowly. She knew she just had to trust that the doctors knew what they were doing and that Robin was strong enough to make it through.

"Do you think he's there?" Kim asked quietly.

Alex didn't need to ask where.

"I don't know," she said quietly. He bit her lip and looked at Kim. "Were _you?"_

"Was I what?"

"You were unconscious for quite a while," Alex reminded her, "I thought…" she closed her eyes, "I thought that perhaps you were _both_ there."

Kim shook her head.

"Not me," she said quietly. She looked at Alex and saw how sad her expression had become. "Ma'am?" she whispered, "I'm really sorry. I know what you're thinking. I've been thinking it too." she paused. "If you'd stayed in the shop five more minutes…"

"I know, I know," Alex nodded slowly, "I've gone over this in my mind a hundred times." She shook her head. She didn't want to get into this just yet. Taking a deep breath, she decided to change the subject. "So," She began, trying to make her expression more positive, "how are you feeling, _mum?"_

Kim looked down, torn between smiling and crying.

"I feel like a bloody idiot," she said, "nine weeks … I know I had no idea I was pregnant the… the first time, in your world –" she noticed Alex gave a gentle smile at Kim referring to it as her world rather than just as Gene's, "but I'd never been pregnant before, I didn't know what it was supposed to feel like."

"You're not the only one, Kim," Alex tried to reassure her, "I was three months before I realised."

"Yeah, but you weren't trying."

"Never even get Gene onto that subject," said Alex, "you'll get a coded talk about sending troops in without their uniform on."

Kim shuddered a little. She hoped to avoid that lecture.

"Even so," she said, "I still feel stupid."

Alex sighed and pulled out her phone. He knew she shouldn't have been using it in hospital but she had something to show Kim. Something had been bothering her since Kim received the news. She pulled up a web page she'd been reading while waiting to be served in the shop and handed her phone to Kim.

"Here," she said, "This might explain it."

Kim took the phone and tried to read the page but in her scrambled frame of mind it was difficult to take in a word.

"What's this?" she asked, "Couvade syndrome?"

"Sympathetic pregnancy," Alex explained, "it's a fairly well-known phenomenon where the partner of a pregnant female will experience a number of pregnancy symptoms. There's debate about whether the cause is psychological or physiological."

"Rob didn't even know," Kim whispered, _"I_ didn't even know."

"Maybe it is a physiological issue then," said Alex.

"Or maybe he's just too bloody sensitive," Kim tried to scold Robin as such, but inside the thought of it made her feel warm and touched. She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. "I feel really mean," she whispered, "I wound him up all that time, I accused him of having…" she shook her head, _"a deep rooted psychological need to be pregnant… _he was taunted like crazy at work too."

"Don't feel too bad about it," Alex told her gently, "this isn't exactly a normal situation. And besides, he still subjected us to all those beans. And fishy biscuits."

Kim instantly felt her stomach turn over.

"Suddenly that lasagne is sounding _so_ much better," she said. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the pillow. "I should have known though, ma'am. I mean, there were _some_ things… I had some weird stomach aches, I just thought my body was screwed up from stress and my period was coming on. And I _thought_ I'd put on a bit more holiday weight than usual, but – hell, it was my first Christmas with Robin, I thought that had to be normal, amount of food he makes." She shook her head, "but _he_ got all my morning sickness and cravings and all-night peeathons. I just didn't know."

"The important thing," Alex told her firmly, "is that you know now. You can take care of yourself and the baby, make sure you keep your strength up –"

"You sound like that bloody nurse."

"With _real_ food, not whatever that slice of hell is they've given you," Alex told her which made Kim laugh, "and you'll be fine. Both of you."

Kim bit her lip.

"And what about Robin?" she whispered.

Alex wished that she could look into the future and know for certain.

"Robin is strong," she reminded her, "he's a fighter. He'll come through this."

Kim looked down.

"What if he doesn't want to?" she whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"What if he's _there?"_ Kim swallowed. She was determined not to start crying. "If he's gone over, he'll want to be with Simon."

"Kim -"

"No, it' OK, Ma'am, I've always known that –"

"No, Kim," Alex shook her head, "I don't think it's that simple." Alex had watched Kim and Robin's relationship through the past month and she knew full well that what they had between them wasn't something that was going to fade away that easily, no matter how long Robin and Simon had been together. She hesitated, unsure whether to tell Kim what she suspected she knew about Robin's trip into the jewellers, but eventually she felt that Kim had to know. "What you told me earlier… that you'd bought Robin a ring," she paused. "You're not the only one who bought a ring today."

"What do you mean?"

"Hayley Ford, the shop owner," Alex took a deep breath, "she came to see me while I was waiting to be discharged. She mentioned that Robin –" she looked at Kim seriously, "- he bought a ring while he was in the shop."

Kim's heart seemed to start doing lap of her chest.

"What kind of a ring?" she whispered.

"She didn't say," Alex told her quietly, "but a couple of weeks ago I had a conversation with him. About marriage. He's been thinking about this for a while."

Kim felt her eyes closing and her lead lolling backwards as a mix of emotions flooded her system. She'd joked about this with him, many months earlier, that whenever one of them proposed they'd probably both do it together. Somewhere inside, it hadn't felt like that much of a joke.

_"Shit,"_ she whispered.

Never before had good and bad news been so dramatically tangled together. It was going to take a long time for Kim to work through the mixed up emotions in her mind. For now she just had to wait and hope that Robin pulled through the surgery. She certainly had some news for him

**~xXx~**

**1997**

"Shoebury, a word."

Simon looked up incredulously from his paperwork to see Gene in the doorway. He didn't like '_Shoebury, a word'._ It was one step off of '_Sit down, Shoebury'._ He especially wasn't in the mood for it that morning. He'd been having nightmares about hundreds of baby Robins flooding society, three new cases of toastercide had popped up on his desk and Eddie had been banned from Latte Land for excess spillage of hot liquid consumables so Simon was going to have to collect the bloody things himself until the ban was over. On top of that, he was still finding it impossible to look Gene in the eye. That was partly from knowing that Gene's eyes were the same ones that he now saw when he looked in the mirror and partly because he couldn't look at Gene without seeing his backside rising and falling with his mother squashed somewhere underneath him.

"I'm busy with this toaster stuff," he said quietly but Gene wasn't having it.

"Need your expertise," he said.

Simon laid down his pen and looked up.

"My expertise in what exactly?" he asked, "this is going to be something to do with toast, isn't it?"

"No, no toast _or_ toasters, cross me heart," Gene promised.

Simon gave a deep sigh but reluctantly got to his feet.

"Alright," he said quietly. He followed Gene through CID and into his office. He felt a little worried by the paranoid way that Gene closed all the blinds and locked the door. What exactly was going on? Top secret nuclear warfare plans?

Gene stepped behind his desk, glanced around nervously and pulled out a notebook. He slid it across the desk to Simon and waited.

"Well?" he said.

Simon frowned at the notebook.

"Well what?"

"Well, what do you make of it?" Gene demanded.

Simon closed his eyes momentarily, sank into a chair and reluctantly picked up the notebook. He scanned the list , shaking his head, and finally looked back at Gene.

"I don't know what you're asking me," he said.

"I need you to help me work out what this means," Gene told him.

"It's just a bunch of insults about TV presenters and television shows!" cried Simon.

"That all have Bolly in the starring role," Gene pointed out.

Simon frowned.

"Huh?" he looked down the list again. He wasn't sure why he'd skimmed over that the first time. Maybe because it made so little sense. He looked at Gene in confusion. "What _is_ this, Gene?" he asked.

"I, uh," Gene looked uncomfortable as he spoke, "I had a taste of what it's like to be one of the coma crew last night," he said.

"The coma crew?" Simon repeated with a frown, "is this a new TV show I never heard of?"

"I 'ad messages," Gene hissed, feeling like an idiot for even admitting it, "On the bloody idiot box."

Simon stared at him for a moment. He didn't recall ever seeing Gene look so unsure of himself. His eyes turned to his list again and he reread it more carefully, finally taking in the fact that Alex had been talking to Gene through the television shows.

"Can… can you tell me more about what happened?" Simon asked, "Your list is… _fine,"_ he said quickly, "but here's a bit too much concentration going on making fun of Carol Smilie than talking about what Alex told you."

Gene rubbed his forehead and reached for his flask. Even for him it was early but he needed something to steady his nerves. This wasn't his usual territory. He'd only ever been the other side of the situation.

"Says she's coming back," he mumbled uncomfortably, "she's fighting to get back here. Told me to check her video."

"This had better not be like the video of you with my…" Simon flinched, unable to finish that sentence.

"Think she means whatever Keats has got on her in his basement," Gene explained, "find out how she gets back."

That made some sense. Simon nodded slowly.

"What else did she say?"

Gene rubbed his forehead again.

"There was some nonsense bollocks about Layton in the Teletubbies," he mumbled, "but mostly that _somehow_ he's got something to do with it." He let out his breath slowly. "She told me he started this, and he's got to end it."

Simon hesitated.

"How?"

Gene shook his head.

"Simon, I have no idea and I seem to have misplaced me crystal ball. All I know is, Layton's got something to do with it; here, _and_ there."

"We need to do something _here?"_ Simon asked, "to help Alex get home?"

"That's me best guess, Shoebury," Gene said solemnly, "and I don't know what she wants me to bloody do."

Simon's eyes moved down to the notebook again.

"We'll work it out," he said quietly.

"We better bloody had do," said Gene, "this isn't me usual territory. I need to get all this x-files bollocks over with and to get Bols back where she belongs."

Simon nodded, then slightly raised his mouth into a smile.

_"You_ made a _list,"_ he commented, unable to hide his amusement.

Gene scowled.

"Yes," he said, "I did. And if anyone else discovers about me new list-making skills you'll be eating this list for yer lunch, along with me fist."

Simon gulped.

"Message understood loud and clear," he said.

~xXx~

"…_The third body was found just after seven this morning in an abandoned shed near the riverbank."_

Victoria stared at the screen as the news made her feel sick and anxious.

"_The three latest deaths come after a sharp increase in tainted narcotics flooding the capital. Police are warning anyone who has purchased any such substance that there is no way of knowing whether their drugs are from the same batch that appears to have killed these three young people overnight."_

Victoria breathed in deeply as the news hit too close to home. She recalled her last phone conversation with Nick Nailer. He'd been right. Deaths from impure narcotics were not only on the rise but reaching a level of epidemic proportions since he had been put away. They'd probably locked away the only drug baron with any kind of morals that the country had ever seen and the result was that people like Arthur Layton could now step in and cause devastating deaths.

She looked at the sheet of paper before her; the visiting order Nailer had sent her. It almost burned her fingers to hold it. She knew it was wrong. She knew she should rip it in two and throw it straight in the bin. But something stopped her. Whether it was the latest news or the strange pull she felt to a man on the wrong side of the law who seemed to much warmer than the dark figure at the helm of Fenchurch West, she wasn't sure, but she couldn't stop thinking about it. She had a feeling she had an important visit to make that day.

_~xXx~_

_#...The sky isn't always blue_

_The sun doesn't always shine_

_it's alright to fall apart sometimes,_

_I am not always you_

_And you are not always mine_

_it's alright to fall apart sometimes_

_After all is said and done_

_One and one still is one_

_When we cry, when we laugh_

_I am half, you are half_

_The heart isn't always true_

_And I am not always fine_

_We all have an angry heart_

_sometimes_

_Look how far we have come_

_One and one still is_

_One moon (one moon)_

_One star (one star)_

_I love the one we are_

_One thread (one thread)_

_One line (one line)_

_Let's stand still in time_

_One moon (one moon)_

_One star (one star)_

_I love the one we are_

_One thread (one thread)_

_One line (one line)_

_That runs through our lives… #_

_- One and One – Robert Miles_


	7. Chapter 6: Closer than Close

**Chapter Six**

**2012**

Torturous hours passed by. For Kim, time had never moved so slowly. She kept one eye on the clock as the sound of a phone bleeping provided the first distraction in a long time. Alex checked her phone and sighed.

"It's Molly," she said quietly, "she heard about the shooting on the news. She's worried about me." Her heart sank as the truth hit her – that she'd been on a quest to pass to another world and that she'd wanted to leave Molly behind to do so. The guilt flooded back like a tidal wave. What if she _had_ taken the bullet instead of Robin? Oh, this was so hard. It didn't matter how deeply she knew that Gene needed her and that his world was where she belonged now, she knew she would never be completely free of the guilt.

As a serious-looking doctor entered Kim sat up straight and looked at him anxiously.

"Is there news?" she asked quickly.

The doctor approached her and nodded slowly.

"Robin's out of theatre now," he began seriously, "the god news is that we were able to remove the bullet, and we have repaired a lot of internal damage. He's lost a large amount of blood and the damage is significant. He suffered heart failure on the operating table but we were able to revive him again."

Kim felt herself starting to shake as every word scared her a little more.

"Is he going to make it?" she whispered.

"At the moment all I can say is that surviving surgery was the first step," the doctor told her, "we won't know his prognosis for a while. The next forty-eight hours of his recovery are critical. If he can make it through the next two days then the chances of his survival and recovery will start to improve. He's in good hands and being well monitored."

"When can I see him?" Kim asked quickly.

"You need to rest -"

"Bollocks, like I can rest knowing he's lying there alone," Kim snapped.

The doctor sighed.

"He needs to be under extremely close observation for the next few hours," he said, "someone will take you down to him in a couple of hour if he's deemed strong and stable enough. But you'll only have a few minutes."

Kim scowled, but a few minutes was better than nothing.

"Fine," she said, "you'd better not forget though, or I'll find my own way down."

The doctor looked a little anxious.

"Ahh, yes," he said, "I've heard about you." He'd been on alert since he discovered a warning in her medical records stating: _"caution: this patient has been known to bite doctors when challenged"._

Alex waited for the doctor to leave before she edged closer to Kim.

"He's made it past the first step," she said, "if he can survive that, he'll make it."

Kim wished that she had the same faith that Alex had that everything would work out alright, but her fear for Robin's life overtook her optimism. She feared that making it back would be one miracle too far.

**~xXx~**

**1997**

Robin stuck out his tongue as he walked past the kennels and waggled his foot in front of one of the dogs.

"Ha," he mocked, "clean socks. Smell 'em and weep, sucker!"

"_Grrrrrr,"_ the dog growled, clearly not appreciating Robin's tone.

Robin ignored the growling and carried on towards the station. His head was still in a scrambled mess. He found himself torn between the desperation of someone trapped in a world where they didn't belong and the joy and pride that Kim's news had brought him. He found himself giving occasional smug, sideways grins when he thought about it. He couldn't help it. Every now and then he stared at the ring on his finger and remembered Kim's other news for him. How the ring had made it over, he had no idea. He was just grateful that it had.

His eyes dipped as he saw Simon heading towards him. He wasn't sure he felt stable enough emotionally to handle more guilt right there and then. He breathed in deeply to try to keep himself composed as it became clear that Simon wanted to talk to him.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"Hi," Simon said nervously. He shuffled uncomfortably and looked at Robin awkwardly. "I'm sorry," he said.

Robin bit his lip.

"What for?"

"Walking off last night," Simon told him, "I didn't handle that very well."

Robin looked down.

"I don't blame you," he said quietly, "I'd have done the same."

"Can we try again for that talk tonight?" Simon asked nervously.

"Are you ready for it?" Robin asked, "I understand if you need some more time."

"I think we need to get it out of the way," Simon told him.

Robin gave a slow nod.

"We do," he said quietly.

Simon had never felt this nervous or shy around Robin before. Not even when they first met, or when they ran into each other for the first time at work after losing touch for a while. There had never been any awkward silences between them before but they were abundant now.

"Are you still making the pizzas tonight?" he asked

Robin gave the slightest smile.

"If you're still happy for me to take over your kitchen," he said.

"Always, said Simon.

Another silence fell. Neither knew how to fill it. Just as both were starting to feel extremely awkward Robin finally said,

"Look, I'd better go and make sure none of the new dog handlers have been eaten by their animals yet. I'll see you later."

"OK," Simon said quietly. He watched Robin start to walk away before he called him back for a moment. "Oh, by the way, just to warn you, Gene might come after you with a notebook later."

Robin hesitated. He wanted to ask why, but at the same time he wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

"OK…" he said, just accepting the fact. Sometimes it was better not to ask.

**~xXx~**

Every inch of Victoria's body and soul screamed _this is wrong _as she walked conspicuously through the visiting room. Full of the least desirable members of the Fenchurch community, it wasn't a place she was used to being. If she needed to speak to a prisoner it was done behind closed doors. This went against everything she knew was right and well and truly conflicted with her morals.

And yet, there she was.

She saw Nailer's face across the crowd and made her way towards it. How come his smile was the friendliest she'd seen in months? That wasn't right. He was a criminal, locked away for a bloody good reason, and yet his smile and his eyes showed a warmth that she never found in those who were supposed to be on the right side of the law.

Nailer began to stand up as she approached but she held out her hand to stop him.

"No, don't stand up," she said, "I won't be here long."

Nailer hesitated. He looked a little disappointed, as though he'd been expecting such pleasantries as a peck on the cheek. He simply smiled and sat back down.

"I'm glad you came," he said, "I knew you would."

"_I_ didn't," said Victoria, "believe me, no one's more surprised to find me here than I am." She hesitated, looking around as though checking to make sure Keats wasn't hiding under a table, about to spring her at any moment. "You have five minutes, Mister Nailer," she said.

Nailer stared at her. Her face was framed by flame-red hair and her lips bore a shade to match but inside a part of her was dying.

"Why do you stay at Fenchurch West?" he asked.

Victoria froze. That wasn't a question she was expecting.

"It's my job," she said, "although not for much longer if this gets out."

"It wouldn't hurt you to move on," said Nailer.

"I need the job," Victoria said tightly.

"Why? Because _Jim_ tells you so?" Nailer asked. He sighed and looked down for a moment. "I've been worried about you."

Victoria frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Since the day you came to ask me questions about Billy Hocker," Nailer explained , "and your _boss_came to drag you away. I don't care what letters you have in front of your name, you don't treat a lady like that."

Victoria made her face tough and stern.

"I can take care of myself," she said firmly.

"I don't doubt it," said Nailer, "I expect that's why you're here." He watched her look at him in confusion, "You knew it was in your best interests to hear what I have to say."

"You're wasting your five minutes," Victoria told him.

Nailer sighed. He shook his head.

"Listen," he began, "I _know_ your boss. I know what he's like. The reason I worry about you is because I know what it's like to be screwed over by Jim Keats." He noticed Victoria's face growing increasingly concerned, not to mention curious. As much as she tried to hide it she couldn't pretend she wasn't interested in knowing what dirt Nailer had on the man who'd made her life a living hell from the moment she started work at Fenchurch West.

"I'm surprised he would mess with you," she said, "you don't work for him, you've got friends in high places and I'm fairly sure he doesn't find you attractive. No offence."

"None taken, just relieved," said Nailer.

Victoria waited for him to elaborate on his previous statement but he seemed to need prompting. Eventually she said,

"Five minutes isn't a very long time, Mister Nailer. If you want me to listen to your concerns about Arthur Layton then I'd start talking now."

"How about I fill you in about the Keats-man first?" Nailer suggested.

Victoria paused, biting her lip nervously.

"Alright," she said.

Nailer picked at the grain of the wood on the table in front of him. He sighed as he thought back to the events of fifteen months previously.

"Finally the law caught up with me," he said, "bloody lunatic CID from Fenchurch East. One of them pulled down my pants and sat on me until back-up arrived. I was on my way out of town, moving on, they caught me at the very last moment and unfortunately for them my insurance policy blew up a chunk of their station."

"What do you mean?" Victoria asked.

"Nice way of ensuring privacy," said Nailer, "a little explosive something in my computers. When the bomb went off all prisoners were transferred to Fenchurch West, which was where I met your friend Mister Keats."

"You seem to have a slightly different definition of the word 'friend' to me," Victoria told him.

Nailer leaned back. His body language was open, honest and natural, and not at all what Victoria was expecting. She found herself increasingly drawn to his manner, not to mention the smile.

"_Jim_ came to talk to me," he said, "he had a proposition for me. He was going to let me escape just to cause a distraction while something else went down."

"Yeah, probably one of the young new recruits, on him," Victoria said spitefully.

"It seemed strange but that's the way life rolls so I just went with it," Nailer told her amiably, "he was happy to put me up in his house for a day or two until the heat was off. But a certain Mister Hunt tracked me down there and suddenly I was back inside." He sighed. "I know when I'm beaten. It had all been a bit of an adventure but that was enough. Damage limitation, my friend. That's what came next. And guess who came by with a helping hand and a kind offer?"

Victoria bristled. All at once the suspicions she'd had about Keats were being confirmed, ticked off like a list.

"I think I can make a general assumption," she said.

"I didn't want to lose my standing," Nailer admitted, "I knew my days ruling the roost were over but I wanted my business to stay operational. Not like I wanted to be destitute when I came out of prison. But more than that, I was proud of what I'd achieved."

"Well, who _wouldn't_ be proud of a drug dealing empire," Victoria said sarcastically.

"I'm not like the other bigwigs, Vicky," said Nailer, "I have standards.

"Not enough to respect my wishes for you not to call me Vicky," Victoria scowled.

Nailer held up his hands.

"I'm sorry," he said, "just feels right for you. Maybe you remind me of someone."

"Of someone who will be leaving at any moment," Victoria said, checking her watch.

Nailer took a deep breath and hurried his story up a little.

"I ran a clean business," Nailer said, "I was always fair. I gave respect to _earn_ respect. My drugs were clean and anyone who bought their stuff from my direct line knew what they were getting. My business colleagues were my friends. I worked hard. I didn't want to lose what I had achieved. And Mister Keats stepped in and offered me a way to do that."

"You trusted him?"

"I hadn't seen the other side of the man yet," said Nailer, "ninety nine percent of the time I am a great judge of character. The other one percent…" he sighed, "was meeting Jim Keats."

"Alright. So what did he offer?"

"For a fair wage he was going to take over the business side of my operations," Nailer explained, "keeping track of goods coming in and going out, paying my colleagues, he was my business manager, if you like."

"Why do I get the feeling there was a bit more to it than that?" Victoria raised her eyebrow.

Nailer nodded.

"He was also in charge of my sweep-up list," said Nailer.

Victoria looked at him incredulously.

"Why do I get the feeling this doesn't relate to keeping your carpets clean?" she asked.

"This is off the record," said Nailer.

"Well I'd hope so, I don't want any part of me being _here_ on the record."

Nailer leaned forward slightly. He looked at Victoria with an intensity and honesty that she hadn't expected.

"There were certain individuals who were thought to have more influence over my prospective sentence than others," he began, "my not-so-legal team worked out who would be best removed from the equation. "

"This _removal_ method," Victoria frowned, "I take it that involves a state of permanency?"

"Not necessarily," said Nailer, "People can be bought more readily than you'd think. Keats was supposed to be in charge of that list but he found himself gravitating more toward the permanency than the buying, and that wasn't what I wanted. Plus, after a very short time here were complaints from some of my men. Wage packets had been getting smaller. _Inflation_, Keats told them. Inflation of his own _pockets_, more like. I don't like it when I find someone's not playing fair, so I terminated our arrangement immediately."

Victoria stared at him for some time. She found herself fidgeting with the cuff of her jacket. Finally she said quietly,

"You rigged his car, didn't you?" she swallowed, "the car accident… the brakes were cut…"

"I didn't intend for my friends to take that particular course of action," Nailer held his palms out, "they took a fairly gangster meaning for '_terminate his contract'._ Though after the way he'd let me down I didn't exactly fell sorry for the guy."

Victoria wished she could find it within herself to argue with that. Instead she straightened up and said,

"Arthur Layton."

Nailer sighed and leaned back, folding his arms.

"Ahh yes, criminal mastermind and all-round handsome fella," he said, his sarcasm coming to the fore.

Victoria chewed nervously in her finger nails.

"The tainted drugs," she said, "I presume you will have heard the latest."

Nailer frowned a little.

"Don't believe I've had the pleasure yet," he said, "what's he done now? Fallen in a vat of the white stuff and sneezed the whole of London into a high?"

Victoria shook her head.

"Thee dead overnight," she said, "a batch of tainted narcotics. I heard it on the news this morning. Otherwise I wouldn't be here."

Nailer nodded.

"'_Saw this and thought of you'…"_ he said.

Victoria looked at him seriously.

"Is this down to Layton again?" she decided not to wait for a response before she asked a follow-up question. "Why am I really here, Mister Nailer?"

"Nick," said Nailer.

"Mister Nailer," Victoria said again.

Nailer nodded and sighed. He supposed he should concentrate on dealing with the matter at hand rather than trying to charm the attractive detective.

"When _Mister Keats_ left my service," he began, "my business started to fall apart. There was no one running the day to day side of things. Nothing keeping it together. I couldn't do it from in here, not without my man on the inside." He paused, "_toad_ on the outside," he corrected.

"You really don't like him, do you?" Victoria commented.

"I like him well enough," said Nailer, "well, I did when he was comatose."

Victoria leaned forward a little.

"Layton," she prompted.

Nailer nodded.

"Layton was on my sweep-up list," he said, "he'd done me a little favour. He'd made a certain explosive item for me. I'd never wanted to cause any damage or to get anyone hurt, I just wanted a way to destroy my computer files. But Layton isn't a man of scruples and he'd have gladly sold me down the river for his own freedom or a few extra pennies. My _not so legal_ team advised me to add him to my sweep up list. He was a priority. Nasty little piece of crud. Unfortunately this was another area in which your friend Mister Keats let me down. Despite reminding him several times to remove the weasel he couldn't be bothered. Kept assuring me business was dealt with when it obviously wasn't since I had eyes on the outside filling me in." he sighed, "but Layton was never swept away, he did a disappearing act for a while, I went to trial, got my sentence and here I am."

"What's that got to do with the drugs appearing now?"

Nailer started to look genuinely depressed.

"With no one running my business operations things became… _confused,"_ he said, "there were pretenders to the throne. Several young upstarts from my _company_ tried to make out they were taking over. Billy Hocker for one. No one really knew what anyone else was doing, communication ceased and the whole network broke up. All my hard work, gone to the dogs."

"Maybe if you had chosen a more legal profession you would still be at the helm," Victoria raised an eyebrow.

"Nah, not the life for me," Nailer said amiably, "I know things went wrong in the end but it was the lifestyle for me." He paused to scratch his chin. "Unfortunately Mister Layton has a certain amount of inside information on my workings. He used this to take over some of my business, managed to convince some of my suppliers and my downline that he was my official replacement, that I'd put him in charge of running things while I was away." He looked at Victoria seriously. "I'd rather put the cast of _Howard's Way_ in charge of things." He shook his head slowly. "Layton has no morals. No scruples. He's been cutting corners, mixing the stuff with god knows what, ripping off some of my most dearly valued colleagues of old. And because there's no one who can really explain what's going on, so many of them have been suckered into thinking I hand-picked him to take the reins in my absence. He's destroying not only what's left of my business and my reputation but half the population of the capital as well."

Victoria stared at Nailer. She thought over his words and looked at his open, genuine expression. Finally she said,

"If all of this is true then you need to contact your lawyer and speak officially to the police about what you know. If you have any concern at all for the bodies washing up full of poison then speak to your _legal-_legal team and make an official statement so that we can get Layton behind bars."

Nailer shook his head. He looked at Victoria.

"This is yours, Vicky," he said, "it's your call and it's your catch. You can do this one of two ways – you can take it the legal route, impress your colleagues with your _amazing sources_ and reel in Layton. Take the credit you deserve at last and get out of that station from hell. Or, you can take the less-than-legal route."

Victoria moved back a little.

"I don't like the sound of that," she said.

"Deal with Layton for me. Track him down. You're a good detective and you're wasted in that place."

"How would you know if I'm a good detective or not?" Victoria asked.

"Because I'm a good judge of character," Nailer smiled, "well, ninety nine percent of the time."

"Yes, we already established the other one percent," Victoria found herself smiling and promptly stopped herself. She had to make sure she wasn't charmed by this man. He might have a silver tongue but he had a list of charges to his name as long as Keats's list of _Wham_ memorabilia.

"Why don't you get out of that life, Vicky?" Nailer looked at her earnestly, "You might think you're on the right side of the law where you are but with Keats in charge that line's too fine to call. Work for me. Keep people like Layton out of my business. There's plenty of money available for someone with your skill. You could get out of Fenchurch West and away from that four-eyed twat for good."

Victoria stared at him. She tried to take in everything that she'd heard. There was a part of her that still didn't understand why she was there. A part of her that couldn't believe she'd gone in the first place. She took a deep breath and looked him right in the eye.

"Mister Nailer," she began quietly, "what you've told me is very serious. I recommend you contact your lawyer right away and arrange to speak to us about Layton on the record." She got to her feet and held out her hand. "Good day, Mister Nailer."

Nailer stared at her hand and then at her face. Her expression was taut and serious but her eyes reflected something else that she wouldn't let herself acknowledge. Slowly, he nodded. The disappointment was written all across his face.

"Thank you for coming," he said quietly. He stood up without shaking her hand and turned away, "If you'll excuse me, I have a date with some metal bars to attend."

Victoria felt her heart sinking as she watched him walk away. She knew that morally she'd done the right thing, but inside she couldn't help feeling that she was making a big mistake. Why did the lure of the wrong side of the law feel like a safer place than a station that was supposed to protect the innocent? Something really wasn't right in the world of Fenchurch West, not in the slightest.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: New keyboard procured! All the keys work… how long will it be before I kill this one too? :P Sorry about the lack of Alex and Gene in this chapter, don't worry the action is back with them in the next one, the split of action just worked out better this way around! Please bear with me, I'm not feeling great so I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up x**_


	8. Chapter 7: You Showed Me

**Chapter Seven**

**1997**

Gene knew there were no such things as coincidences.

This was something that he sometimes struggled with. It would have been far easier if he still believed in them. That luxury had been more or less taken away from him when he ceased to forget about the nature of his world. OK, so there was the very occasional one that occurred, like when he just happened to be passing Latte Land in time to laugh his head off at the sight of Simon slipping on a dropped cappuccino and mopping up a lot of coffee with the backside of his trousers. But by and large coincidences were a thing that did not exist. Instead, '_coincidences'_ were very pointed messages.

If only he still believed in coincidences he'd have regarded the large coincidence sitting on his desk as simply that; the copy of the Daily Mirror he'd passed in the canteen and picked up for the fine art of procrastination that morning. It was a quiet day and his mind was on everything but the job anyway. There was another day before his new recruits would be arriving while he was still nursing a face full of bruises from his altercations with both Simon and Keats and several cases were drawing to a close and needed little attention.

The paper had been sitting on his desk for about an hour after its sneaky abduction. He'd been busy putting Bammo in his place for organising a CID Impressions Night in which everyone had signed up to portray Gene himself and all seemed to be using the exact same script. Gene felt sure that he didn't use _that_ kind of language and illustrated the point with long tirade full of 4 letter words while Bammo became intimately acquainted with the filing cabinet.

Eventually CID fell quiet and he had some time to look at the paper in peace. As he unfolded it his eyes were drawn to the headline before him; _Deadly Drug Sweeps City_.

"So you've gone for the subtle approach," Gene mumbled as he sank into his chair, put his feet on his desk, picked a bit of dirt off his boot with a pen and began to read the article. He exhaled loudly as he scanned the story. It was nothing he hadn't heard before; warnings about drugs that had been mixed with something as yet unidentified but deadly, responsible for a sudden spate of deaths. But then what did the idiots expect if they were going to pump that kind of crap into their veins anyway? As much as he hated to admit it he'd seen one druggy too many laying in the gutter and although his passion for getting the perpetrators off the street stayed as strong as ever there was a part of him that felt the corpses got a little taste of what they deserved.

He flicked over the page to continue the story and read in silence for a minute more but suddenly a name caught his eye and a string of expletives came from his mouth. He tried to get to his feet, got his boot caught on the desk and tumbled off his chair instead. When he finally regained his composure and stood up properly he reread the page again to make sure it wasn't all in his imagination.

No, it wasn't.

"_Officers are looking to speak to known dealer Arthur Layton for his possible connection to the affected substances."_

"Well blow me head off with a mutant toaster," Gene declared. He stared at the name for quite some time. He hadn't heard, seen or thought about Arthur Layton in a very long time. The last time the name had appeared was in Nailer's files when he and Simon had stolen a bundle of papers from Keats's flat over a year earlier. Layton himself had been very quiet for some time – and after appearing in Nailer's files Gene couldn't blame him, especially being the cowardly little rat he was, but out of the blue here he was, under suspicion, coming hot on the heels of Alex's messages from the night before.

"No such thing as bloody coincidences," Gene mumbled. He scanned the words again. "Alright. _Which_ officers are looking to speak to Layton and why are none of them me?"

It was time to do something about that. Somehow Layton was Alex's route home and he wasn't going to sit back and let some un-named 'officers' get their hands on the runt. Not when Lady B was relying on him to help her back. He marched from his office, the door opening wide to let him pass, then closed with a slam behind him.

As the office fell silent, a tiny twinkling of starlight passed by overhead. No one could see. No one to care. But it wsthere.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

"Kim?"

Kim looked up as the nurse entered her room.

"Yes?" she said quickly.

"We can take you down to see him now."

Kim closed her eyes momentarily and breathed a sigh of relief. Every time someone came in she assumed it was bad news.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

Alex felt awkward as she watched Kim being helped slowly from her bed into a wheelchair. That wasn't the Kim she was used to seeing. There were certain people that she just couldn't stand to see weakened by pain and Kim, it seemed, was one of them. She gave her a sympathetic smile, wishing she could do more to help. She noticed Kim clinging to something and hiding it in the palm of her hand. She wondered what it was but thought it best not to ask.

"I'm afraid visiting hours are coming to an end," the nurse turned to Alex and told her.

Alex felt a little taken aback.

"Oh," she said with a frown. Well what had she expected? An all-night pass to guard Kim in case a random object fell out of the sky from 1997 and landed on her head or something? She closed her eyes for a moment as she realised she had nowhere to go. Almost as though she read her mind, the nurse asked;

"Do you have somewhere to stay? We could find you the numbers of some local hotels and guest houses?"

Alex shook her head slowly. If she was honest she just wanted to be as close to the hospital as possible in case anything happened. She felt the corner of her mouth twitch into a smile.

"Thank you, but I'll be fine," she said, "I have some accommodation."

Kim glanced at her curiously but the look on Alex's face told her not to ask so instead she said a quiet and fond goodbye and allowed the nurse to wheel her from the room. The last thing Alex heard from Kim were the words,

"_Can't you go any bloody faster? I saw a tortoise on crutches overtaking us a while back."_

Alex got to her feet, laughing gently to herself. It may have been hard to see Kim in pain and less than her usual tough self but the old Kim was still in there.

With some reluctance she got to her feet and prepared to leave the hospital. She didn't feel she should be deserting her friends and was especially worried about Kim being alone that night but she wasn't feeling strong enough to argue with the hospital's policy, and she also needed some time by herself. The fact that everything had worked out so spectacularly differently to the way she had anticipated had left her feeling lost and she needed to regroup. She knew as a fact there was a notebook in the car and she was going to need some quality time with it that night.

Very slowly she walked out of the room and along the corridor. She felt drained and shattered, her whole body aching with exhaustion. She suspected that her planned accommodation was possibly not the best for a 24-week-pregnant woman, especially not one who was drained and still suffering a little from shock, but for personal reasons it was the best place for her to be.

She made her way out of the hospital and out to the Fiat, thankful to the helpful local officers who had kindly driven it there on their behalf amid the fallout from the shooting and Kim's accident. With a smile she unlocked the door and climbed inside. It was a taste of home, a familiar place to stay. She knew Gene had spent the occasional night in there and they'd been on more than one stakeout in that car. It was as close as she could get to spending the night with him.

"I miss you, Gene," she whispered into the dark evening. Every now and then she was sure she could catch a whiff of his scent on the driver's seat. She felt sure she should have been home that night. Something had gone wrong and she had to find another way back. But in the meanwhile, she was as close to home as she was going to get.

**~xXx~**

**1997**

"Is this going to take long?" Robin asked as he followed Gene to his office, "only I need to explain to some twat called David why it is not possible to teach his dog to sniff out _'bargains in the January sales'_."

"Won't take long," said Gene, "just needed to get yer professional advice on something. "

Robin walked through Gene's doorway and closed the door behind him.

"Has this got anything to do with a notebook?" he asked warily.

Gene looked slightly alarmed.

"Not if you want to keep all yer limbs," he said. He paused for a moment as he sat in his chair. "How did you know about that?"

"Simon warned me you might want to have a word," he said.

"Oh, he did, did he?" Gene asked. He looked at Robin. "You two speaking then?"

Robin looked down.

"Kind of," he said.

"Well I bloody hope you are," Gene told him, "because I need all the help I can get, Batman."

Robin pulled a face.

"Can you _not_ call me Batman?" he asked. The murderous look on Gene's face made him gulp and instantly regret opening his mouth. "I mean, can't you just give me a different nickname? You call most people by their surname, don't you?"

"Yes," Gene began crossly, "but yours is just a bloody name! Everyone'll think you're called Thomas!"

"It's better than 'Batman'."

"It serves you right for having a bloody name as a surname," Gene told him.

"Then can't you just call me Robin?" Robin pleased.

"That would be too easy," said Gene. He scowled. "I'll bloody call you Mister Stringer if you're not careful."

"Oh, Simon would be well and truly impressed with _that," _Robin folded his arms and pouted.

"_Look_," Gene cried crossly, "I didn't bring you here for a debate about yer name - This is bloody important so shut yer facial letterbox and listen." He sighed and tried to stem his anger for a few moments. Eventually he calmed down enough to find his netbook and pass it across the desk to Robin. "Right. If the name debate is over then take a look."

Robin started to read down the list but it didn't make a lot of sense to him.

"Who's been painting pictures of Alex?" he frowned, "I don't get it."

"You might have noticed I 'ad a few things on me mind when you came to get yer laundry last night," Gene told him.

Robin sighed.

"Well that made two of us," he said.

Gene hesitated for a moment.

"Bloody hell, I forgot you'd knocked Stinger up," he said.

_"Knocked her…"_ Robin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Oh, I bet Alex had a great time hearing all these euphemisms. Did you actually manage to use the term 'pregnant' at any point?"

Gene frowned.

"I don't remember you being this lippy last time you were here," he admonished.

"Maybe because I hadn't met Kim then," Robin said quietly. He bit his lip. "Sorry."

Gene gave him a warning glare for a few more moments, then got to his feet and started to pace.

"I had a shock last night," he began, "Like I told you at the time, bloody telly started answering me back."

Robin hesitated.

"Are they in league with these killer toasters or something?" he asked.

"No," said Gene, "there was a posh, mouthy tart on the telly who seemed to have a message for me." He sighed and sat back down. "Never had a message like that before. Bloody Bolly talking to me over the screen. He paused. "Told me Arthur Layton is the key to getting home. Said she needed my help."

"Layton?" frowned Robin, "that's a name I haven't heard for a while."

"Seems since he started it he has to finish it," Gene explained, "he put that bullet in her head, now somehow he's her way back."

Robin bit his lip.

"_And_ he caused the car accident," he said quietly, "the one that sent her back before."

Gene nodded slowly.

"They say thing come in threes," he commented, "They usually don't mean scraggly little dealers who smell like compost though." He steeled himself to move onto the next point. "This morning someone left a daily rag right where I was passing and it as looking lonely so I gave it a new home." He reached for the newspaper but found nothing. He shook his head and frowned then started to search all over his desk, then underneath it, then around the rest of the room. "_Shit!_ Some bastard's nicked me bloody paper!"

Robin hesitated.

"Well it does sound like you nicked it first," he pointed out.

"That is the kind of minor detail that will see you getting pieces of office furniture jammed into yer back, Batman," Gene told him as he continued to look for it. It quickly became clear that then paper had gone, taken by person or persons unknown. "So much for me big reveal," he stormed.

"Can't you just tell me what it said?" asked Robin.

"Could do," moped Gene, "not as impressive that way." He sank onto the side of the desk and rubbed his temples. "Deadly batch of drugs has been flooding the city," he said, "guess whose name came up in the story?"

Robin didn't need to guess.

"Shit," he whispered.

"Can't tell me that's a coincidence," said Gene.

Robin shook his head.

"No," he said quietly, "I don't think it is."

Gene looked at him seriously.

"Drake wants me to deal with Layton here to help her get home," he said, "so that's what I'm going to bloody do. Already got Fletcher transferring the search to CID."

"What do you want me to do?" Robin asked, "Do you want the dogs for the search? Because... Unfortunately, I don't think they're ready for that yet. Unless Layton's got particularly stinky feet." He paused. "Actually, leave that one with me…"

"No," said Gene, "I can't be doing with things that have got more legs than_ I_ have. I need yer help but not to find the twat."

"Then what?"

Gene hated what he was about to say. It put him on a side of the line he was highly uncomfortable with. He had been on the same side of the world for decades and knew where he stood with that. Now he was putting himself amongst the fruitbaskets and nutcases who ran screaming around CID looking for their offices. _Or_ trying to recharge staplers, if they happened to be Eddie.

"This _message_ bollocks," Gene began, "it's new to me. I don't do coded crap on the goggle box. No idea what I'm supposed to make of it. One minute I've got some Cheshire Cat grinning idiot with paint for brains making me Bolly's chest too small and the next Layton's invading teletubby-land slipping illegal substances into the Tubby Custard."

"What are you saying to me, Gene?" Robin rubbed his forehead, "you want me to get some Teletubby custard tested for tainted drugs in case Dipsy drops down dead in the middle of an episode?"

"Tell me how to get from where I am to getting Bolly back in me bed!" Gene snapped.

Robin stared at him. He shook his head slowly. He could feel his heart sinking. For someone who pretty much ran the world it felt like Gene didn't understand the most basic rule.

"I… I can't do that," he said quietly, "I don't _know_ how. When I was here before you said you didn't know how I could get home. We asked what we had to do and you didn't know. We asked if it was anything to do with Nailer and you said it couldn't hurt but there were no guarantees. These are your rules, Sir, not mine. I can only guess…" he sighed, "…that they work the same the other way round too."

Gene hesitated. For the first time he started to really hate the ways of his world.

"Bollocks," he muttered. He reached for his flask. He'd known he was grasping at straws. Even if Robin or Simon had come up with a super sparkly idea about what they had to do with Layton it still didn't help him work out how Alex was going to get back from her side. He wondered if he was trying to take too big a step at a time. Maybe he was looking too far ahead. But he couldn't help it. He'd been without Alex long enough and now she'd given him a message he just wanted to see it through and bring her home.

"But I'll keep thinking," Robin promised him, "and if there's anything that comes to mind…"

Gene shook his head. He was fairly sure nothing would come to mind.

"You get back to yer four legged freaks," he said, "when I hear from Fletcher I'll bring you on board."

Robin nodded slowly.

"That's fine by me," he said. He was glad of any excuse to get away from the new dog unit for a while. Between dogs with a foot hygiene obsession and wanting to fall down a large hole every time he saw Shaz he would be quite happy to stick to beings of the two legged variety for a while.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

Alex felt fairly smug as she settled herself back into the car. She'd been on a mission. She'd managed to poach some blankets from a trolley in the hospital and purchased some food and drink for overnight from the hospital cafeteria before it closed for the evening. In fact, despite the circumstances of the day she felt fairly cosy. It was a bit like camping, she thought, except with less canvas and swearing from Gene when he tripped and got a tent peg up the arse.

She wrapped the blanket around her legs and tucked into a baked potato. It was warming and comforting which was what she needed right then. As an act of solidarity she had gone for the beans as a filling, despite her earlier comments about Robin. She silently made a wish as she ate them, that Robin would be back to his _own_ home soon, too. If they could only have swapped places then everything would be OK.

When she finished her potato she leaned forward to place the empty container on the dashboard and felt her foot scrape something under the seat. She frowned, wondering what she'd dropped. Could have been a map or something, she suspected. With some difficulty, navigating her bump, she managed to stoop down and scrape it off the floor. It was a newspaper, which confused her. She didn't remember anyone buying one earlier that day.

It took a few moments to realise that it didn't _have_ that day's date on it. In fact, it didn't even have that _year_ on it.

"Oh… my…" she trailed off as she stared at the top of the paper. _1997_ stared back at her.

_Deadly Drug Sweeps City._

She took a deep breath. The paper hadn't been there before, she was sure of it. Someone would have noticed it. She felt a strange tingling sensation running down her arms as she stared at the headline.

Outside, the stars seemed to twinkle just a little more brightly than usual that night.

**~xXx~**

**1997**

It had been a long and difficult day for Gene. He hated being on the other side of things. He couldn't handle it. He just liked to live a normal life, go to work, insult his team, bang up a few pieces of scum in the cells, go for a drink to celebrate – all this strange message and riddle bollocks went against his nature and he knew he was doing a bad job of working out what to do next.

With some reluctance Fletcher had agreed to get Gene assigned to the case of the tainted drugs. He was still somewhat cautious about Gene's behaviour of late, not to mention his black eye, but it was good to see Gene fired up and passionate about something again, even if he didn't know why.

Eventually Gene had gone home and spent an hour plodding back and forth through every channel in the TV, waiting to see Alex appear but to no avail. A quick dinner of scotch later and he found himself on the verge of passing out with exhaustion.

However, as soon as he tried to lay down and get some sleep the fact that he was there alone, without Alex , started to get to him. He knew that it was going to be hard, going back there without her, but it felt unnatural. This time he didn't even feel comfortable sleeping on the sofa. It as Alex's flat first and foremost in his mind, and without her he just didn't feel right.

With a sigh he grabbed his scotch, his blankets and his Gameboy, then marched out of the flat. He trailed down the stairs and out the front door, across to his shiny new car parked just outside. It had stood him in good stead for a couple of nights. One more wouldn't go amiss.

He opened the back door and climbed inside. It wasn't the Ritz but, somehow, it felt right. And strangely, he felt closer to Alex right then that he had in months.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

Alex bundled up the coats of Kim and Robin which she'd found still lying on the back seat to behave like a makeshift pillow. She laid her head against them and pulled her legs up across the rest of the seat, stretching them out as far as she could. With the blankets around her and the heater that had been running previously she was warm enough. She closed her eyes and felt a strange smile wash over her as sleep descended.

In the split second before she felt asleep she felt for all the world as though there was another body pressed against hers; the bulk of a man shuffling and fidgeting against her. The air smelt of nineteen ninety something and just for a second she caught a whiff of something more. Maybe it was all the stress of the day, maybe it was the shock and the trauma, but for a moment she could have sworn it was manstink.

**~xXx~**

**1997**

The back seat was fairly comfortable and the blanket kept him warm enough. He'd switched his Gameboy off sometime previously when he'd failed miserably to beat his high score and had been on the verge of throwing the bloody thing out of the window. Rolling up his jacket as a pillow, he finally laid down with the top of his head pressing against the door and closed his eyes. Bizarre, but he felt warm. Warmer than usual. Like someone else was beside him, _keeping_ him warm. It was strange but he could almost smell the scent of Alex's shampoo around him, even though he knew she'd never been in that new car. It was so strong that he opened his eyes briefly to make sure she wasn't really there.

No one. He was alone.

He closed his eyes again and shuffled down into the back seat to grab as much sleep as possible before a new day began and the Arthur Layton trail started to heat up. The stars outside shone with double strength that night. But his eyes were tightly closed and sleep had already started to drag him away so he didn't get to see for himself.

**~xXx~**

It was getting too cramped and he was squashing her bump.

"Gene, I need more room," Alex mumbled in her sleep, stretching out her hands to push him away. For a moment she felt something solid and real against her fingertips and a voice rang through her mind;

"_Careful, you'll push me off then bloody seat, woman, you want to spend the day rubbing liniment into me bruised backside?"_

With a gasp she jumped and her eyes opened wide. There was no one there, just her and her blankets all wrapped around on the back seat. For a moment she'd felt so sure... and it had felt so real…

Ad her heart was doing summersaults in her chest.

She closed her eyes again, as though she could bring back the illusion. Maybe it was all in her head but she felt sure she heard a dull thump and someone swearing. But sleep took over once again and the illusion faded into the night.

**X**

He landed on the floor of the car with a hefty thump and gave a loud '_Oof!'_ noise followed by some heartfelt swearing. He opened his eyes and tried to work out what in the hell had happened. One minute he was dreaming about Alex, just lying beside her, the next he felt someone push him and he found himself jammed between the back and front seats of his car.

"That was one of the most violent nightmares I've ever bloody had," he mumbled as he tried to un-wedge himself and haul his tired frame back to the seat where he sat for some time, his heart pounding and his mind racing. He knew it was stupid. He knew it was ridiculous. He knew his mind was running away with him, and after the strange messages the day before who could have blamed him.

But just for a moment –

No. he wasn't even going to think that way. If he even started to then the fact he was now there all alone would be even harder.

The starlight had played its games for one night but two worlds were edging ever closer.

**~xXx~**

_You showed me how to do_

_Exactly what you do_

_How I fell in love with you_

_Oh, it's true_

_Oh, I love you_

_You showed me how to say_

_Exactly what you say_

_In that special way_

_Oh, it's true_

_You fell for me too_

_And when I tried it, I could see you fall_

_And I decided it's not a trip at all_

_You taught it to me too_

_Exactly what you do_

_And now you love me too_

_Oh, it's true_

_We're in love, we two_

_You showed me how you do_

_Exactly what you do_

_How I fell in love with you_

_You showed me how to say_

_Exactly what you say_

_In that special way_

_You taught it to me too_

_Exactly what you do_

_And now you love me too_

_You Showed Me – The Lightning Seeds_


	9. Chapter 8: Unbreak My Heart

_**A/N: One week to go! This time next week she will be here. This has felt like the longest pregnancy in history, I am just desperate for her to get here safely at last. I am going to try to find a way to update from my phone in hospital but I don't think I can edit a chapter from mobile FFnet? :( Leave it with me! Feel free to make guesses for weight and names! The closest will receive an anti-beard device to prevent Evan from appearing on your doorstep in the middle of the night with his 'classy' facial hair… Urrrrgh…. Now I've put myself off my tea, here we go!**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter Eight**

**2012**

There was very little that shook Kim up. Usually she was in control no matter what the situation but the moment she caught sight of Robin, surrounded by machinery with wires and tubes coming from every inch of his body, she couldn't work out how to cope with it. She felt sick inside, her fear rising as she tried to take in what she was seeing.

"Oh _god_, Rob," she whispered.

The nurse wheeled her closer to the bed and she peered at what she could see of his face through all the tubes that were keeping him alive. Somehow it was so much worse than she had expected. She didn't know what she was going to find but it certainly hadn't been _this_ bad in her head.

How was he ever going to recover from this? How was _anyone_ strong enough? With his closed eyes he looked almost peaceful but the rest of him told a different story. Kim's heart had never broken so hard and fast before in her life.

**~xXx~**

**1997**

Robin felt a sense of dread as he put together the pizzas. He knew that the conversation was inevitable but he was dreading it none the less. It seemed that every time he and Simon tried to make a little progress in smoothing things over something would happen to set them right back. He already felt so guilty that he could hardly stand it. He didn't think anything that could possibly come from their talk would change that in any way.

He put the pizzas in the oven and set the timer, then turned to the table. It was surreal to be doing something so normal and domesticated as making dinner when he was stranded so far away from home, in another year completely. It seemed fake in a way, a bit like going on a self-catering holiday. Running through the motions of everyday life in the most peculiar and otherworldly circumstances.

He watched the clock as the pizzas cooked, partly to make sure that they weren't going to burn and partly because watching the hands go round reminded him that he still had a chance. As the time moved on he began to feel increasingly nervous. Simon would be back very soon and there would be no escape from the talk. Sure enough, just before the pizzas were ready and the timer bleeped at him the front door opened and Robin heard Simon's footsteps coming ever closer. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, just hoping that this time they could find a middle ground and work some things through.

"Hi," Simon said a little nervously as he walked into the kitchen. The smell of Robin's pizza made him feel so nostalgic. It took him right back to the days when they would get home from work and Robin would disappear into the kitchen immediately. Fairly soon after, myriad wonderful smells would emerge and fill the flat. Simon missed those days with every breath he took.

Robin gave him a slightly anxious smile.

"Hey you," he said quietly, "Pizza's ready. Your timing is perfect."

"Always was," said Simon.

Robin bit his lip.

"I hope you're still happy to wash up afterwards," he said.

Simon smiled distantly as he took a seat at the table.

"Like a trip to the past," he said and cringed, "Oh god, bad choice of phrase."

Robin gave a quiet laugh as he began to serve. So far they'd made it two minutes without an argument. Sad as it was, that was progress. He hoped that was a good sign.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

Kim wished the nurse wasn't hovering by the door. She wanted privacy but she wasn't going to get it. The nurse had argued that she shouldn't be left alone with Robin in case something should happen to either of them, with Kim still suffering a lot of pain from the accident as well as bleeding and with Robin freshly out of a major operation. It didn't put Kim's mind to rest though. She didn't want bystanders listening to what she wanted to say to him. How could she tell him what she truly wanted to when there was a lurking nurse who wouldn't understand? The moment Kim started talking about other worlds and goodness knows what she'd probably have her checked for concussion.

All she could do was to take his hand. It felt cold and still; _lifeless_. It brought involuntary tears to her eyes which she cursed herself for and angrily wiped away. She tried so hard to keep herself together and hold her nerve but she started to feel a terrible sense of fear that she was about to lose him at any moment. After all they'd come through together, how hard they'd had to fight to work through the complications of a relationship that went against their natural drives, the problems that they'd faced with other worlds trying to intrude on their lives – and now she could see him fading away before her eyes.

Was that what he wanted? Was he_ there_? Was he with Simon? Despite her often brash exterior there was a part of her that still lacked self-esteem. Linda's sharp tongue had nurtured it for years. She still couldn't let herself believe for a moment that, given the choice, Robin would choose her over the man she knew he'd loved so deeply. She'd always told herself that if Robin went to the other world first then she wouldn't try to take him away from Simon. But now she wasn't sure herself which way his heart was heading. Alex's news of a ring and talk of marriage had come as a shock to her.

_Speaking of which –_

She opened up her palm and stared at the ring she'd bought only hours ago. A whole lifetime felt as though it had passed since then. She stared at Robin's hand and reached for his ring finger then gently slipped the ring onto it, past his knuckle and down to the end. A fresh barrage of tears began to well in her eyes as her bottom lip trembled and she worked hard at keeping all her emotions inside.

"I'm sorry," the nurse spoke up, "he can't wear jewellery."

Kim looked around and stared at her with barely disguised contempt.

"What?"

"No jewellery," the nurse said apologetically, "health and safety. If his fingers were to swell up then we would have to cut the ring off to remove it."

Kim stared at her. There were a hundred things she wanted to say, all of them unpleasant. Finally she took a deep breath.

"So do it," she said.

"What?"

"If his finger swells up, cut the ring off," Kim told her, "I'm sure it can be soldered at the jeweller's afterwards. But tonight, he needs to wear that ring."

"Miss Stringer, our policy –"

"- Is going to be the thing that makes me blow a fuse," Kim snapped, "you've only let me see him for five minutes, you won't give me any privacy, let him wear the bloody ring, for fuck's sake!"

"Swearing at me isn't going to help."

"Oh, it is," mumbled Kim. She looked at the nurse and tried to calm herself down a little as she said, "Look. I know it goes against your policy. I do understand that. But I just bought him that ring today." She cleared her throat feeling a little awkward, "it's an engagement ring. And if something happens to him overnight then he'll never have worn it."

The nurse stared at her for a moment. She hesitated, torn between following procedure and wanting to help a woman who'd just been though the most traumatic day of her life. Finally she closed her eyes and sighed.

"Alright," she said, "you can leave it on overnight. Talk to one of his doctors in the morning."

Kim tried to keep her smug grin internalised as she looked at the ring on Robin's finger.

"_Thank you,"_ she said, mentally adding a dance of success that her body wouldn't have a chance in copying.

She looked at his hand. The ring looked good there. It suited him.

It looked _right._

**~xXx~**

**1997**

"Is… something wrong?"

Simon glanced up.

"Hmm?"

"The pizza," said Robin, "didn't I make it right? Is it overdone?"

Simon glanced down at his plate. He hadn't made a lot of progress."

"No, no, it's great," he said quietly, "you wouldn't believe how long I've waited to taste your cooking again." He looked down. "I just… guess I wasn't as hungry as I thought I'd be."

It was nothing to do with the pizza. It was the anxiety that Simon had been nurturing in his stomach all day. The pizza tasted as good as it always had done and it was a welcome relief to his taste buds after they'd been subjected to the greasy takeaway fare of late but every time he tried to take a bite it felt like sawdust going down. His worry and his nerves had killed his appetite stone dead.

"You don't have to eat it of you don't want to," Robin said quietly.

Simon looked at Robin whose pizza was already half-gone. It didn't seem _he_ was as badly affected by the worry of their talk, he thought. Then he realised that Robin usually erred on the side of comfort eating. Maybe he was just as worried as Simon was?

"I'm sorry, Rob," Simon laid down the slice in his hand, "I've had a long day. I'm just not feeling very hungry."

Robin put down his knife and form. He looked at Simon with a nervous, weak smile.

"It's OK," he said, "I'll put it in the fridge,. You can always have it later.

"Thanks," Simon said quietly. He watched Robin stand up and begin to move the food away. "You don't have to stop eating _yours_, you know."

"Don't feel comfortable eating on my own," Robin said quietly.

Simon felt guilty for disturbing Robin's meal. He hadn't wanted that in the slightest. He felt his stomach churning as the moment came closer and the talk approached. As Robin rejoined him at the table he found himself stumped for words. There were so many things he wanted to say and to ask but he didn't know how and he was terrified that each one would set off his own anger again. Eventually he asked a question that even _he_ hadn't been expecting to.

"How _is_ Kim?"

Robin reeled from the question. He wasn't expecting it in the slightest., he bit his lip for a moment before he asked,

"What… do you mean?"

Simon looked down.

"I mean, after she went home from here," he said quietly, "how did she cope?"

Robin swallowed hard. He looked away as he said quietly,

"You know how hard it is to adjust, Simon. You remember what it was like when _you_ went back. Kim had a really hard time of it."

Simon found himself fidgeting with a napkin to take his attention away from his questions.

"When she was here," he began, "I gave her some advice. About staying hidden from Keats when she went home."

Robin nodded.

"She followed it to the letter," he said, "changed her name, changed her career, moved, everything. Even had a totally different look. Grew her hair, wore it dark and long." He shook his head, "she struggled badly. Being here… it changed her too much. She spent years pretending to be someone she wasn't, and I don't mean by changing her name. This place… it stole part of her. Stole her emotions. Stole her ability to love. To relate to people. She said she felt dead inside for a long time."

Simon felt a pang of sadness inside of him. He remembered only too well how hard it was to go back. Whatever he might have been feeling about Kim and Robin being together Kim had been his dear friend and he hated the thought of her going through hell for so long.

"And now?" he asked quietly.

Robin looked down. He tried not to smile. The last thing he wanted to do was to rub their relationship in Simon's face and he tried not to reference it directly,.

"Now," he began, his voice trembling slightly, "she has her life back. Because one day Alex turned up on my doorstep, begging me to hide her from Evan, and the next thing I knew we'd tracked down Kim to help us get her home. Facing her past gave her a future."

Simon stared at him.

"With you?" he asked.

Robin felt his cheeks starting to burn.

"Simon," he whispered, "I'm so sorry. The last thing I ever wanted to do was to hurt you, you know that." He felt so much guilt and sadness tearing him up inside. "When I lost you it hurt to wake up in the morning. It hurt to breathe. Living was too painful and you _know_ I was planning to take a drastic way out." He looked down, shaking his head. "I would have done anything to be back here with you, and we both know why I didn't."

Simon nodded slowly.

"Keats," he whispered.

"Alex stopped me making the terrible mistake that day," Robin recalled her one uttered word in her moment of waking from her coma, "and then that night –" he hesitated, "your letter."

Simon looked back at Robin. He felt his heart sinking as he realised something.

"I sent Kim to you," he whispered, "didn't I?"

Robin looked down.

"I suppose," he whispered, "kind of."

Simon laid his head in his hands. He hadn't even thought of it like that before.

"If I hadn't asked her to deliver the letter," he began quietly, "would you ever have met her?"

Robin bit his lip and shook his head.

"Even if Alex had asked me to track Kim down when she needed help there would have been no way of knowing her new name or where to find her if you hadn't sent her with the letter," he said quietly.

Simon hung his head.

"_Fuck,"_ he whispered.

"I'm so sorry," Robin whispered. All he could do was to apologise again and again, even though he wasn't sure why or how that could make things better.

Simon looked at him seriously before asking a question he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to.

"How does it even _work_, Rob?" he demanded, "I mean, you can't possibly be more incompatible. Unless all this time you were bi?"

Robin shook his head.

"Believe me, I'm not," he said quietly.

"You _must_ be if you…" he flinched and shuddered at the thought, "if you can manage to do what's necessary to – _reproduce_."

"Simon, I went through all of this," Robin told him, "it was a nightmare. I kept trying to work out what the hell was going on, I tried looking at women to see if…" he shook his head, " to see if I found _any_ of them, any woman at _all_, attractive in that way. And no, I didn't. And it's not even like I look at _Kim_ and see her as…" he paused. He didn't know how to explain it, "I'm not attracted to Kim as a woman. I'm attracted to Kim, for being –" he paused, "- _Kim_. And if you are expecting me to explain it any better than that then I'm sorry, but I can't. I don't know how love works. No one does really. It just _happened."_

Simon stared at Robin. He had another question.

"You really wanted to have children?" he asked, sounding slightly disturbed by the idea.

"I didn't know I did," Robin admitted, "then Kim had a miscarriage and I realised how much I wanted it."

"Would you ever have wanted kids with me?" Simon asked quietly.

Robin looked down.

"We never really got that far," he said quietly, "did we?"

"We were together for _years_, Robin – you and Kim have only been together for _months!"_

"But we took a long time to find our feet," Robin reminded him gently, "Shit, Si, work was a priority for both of us for _years_. It wasn't until your accident that we started to become more serious. And maybe we should have done it sooner… maybe we were stupid to put career progression first all that time. Maybe if we'd have moved in together sooner, got married… _maybe_ we'd have talked about children, I don't know." He closed his eyes. "Maybe… maybe the thing that was different with Kim and I… is that we'd both learned the hard way how precious life is."

Simon wasn't feeling any better. Every question he asked just made him feel worse.

"If I hadn't told you to move on and met someone else," he began, "or I I'd asked you to wait for me… what would you have done?"

Robin exhaled loudly.

"That's not a very fair question, Simon," he said quietly, "I don't think I can answer it. I don't think I could know what I'd have done unless that's what you'd actually said to me. "

Simon had to admit that he'd been a little unfair with that one. He nodded and drew in his breath.

"So," he whispered, "you're fighting to get home."

Robin nodded.

"Yes," he whispered, "I need to."

"If you hadn't still been alive out there," Simon asked, "do you think there would have ever been a chance for us? Could we have ever…" he flinched, not even sure he wanted to know the answer, "could we have been together again?"

"I can't answer all your questions," Robin said quietly, "I don't know what would have happened. And I don't know what's _going_ to happen. But I know that I hate with every part of my soul that I've hurt you. And I'll always love you, Simon."

""But you're _in_ love with Kim." It wasn't a question and Robin didn't even need to answer. Simon could see it all over his face. "It's OK. You don't need to say anything. I can see that much." He paused and threw out a childish comment. "She's too old for you, you know."

"She's the same age as _you_," Robin said quietly.

Simon clenched his jaw.

"What about when you get tired of her?" he whispered, "you said yourself you're not bisexual. She can't please you forever."

"You don't know what Kim keeps under the bed." The words slipped out before Robin realised what he was saying. He'd become so used to speaking his mind that he just let it out. He slapped his hand over his mouth and his eyes widened as he stared at Simon's horrified expression. "God, I'm sorry," he cried, "I didn't mean to say that… I'm sorry, forget I ever said anything –"

"Because _that's_ not going to haunt me, _forever,"_ Simon cried. He jumped to his feet and put his hands over his ears. "Oh _god_, I never, _ever_ wanted to know that –"

Robin's guilt level doubled but the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile. He tried so hard not to laugh but the horrified expression Simon wore made it hard to keep a straight face. As a tiny giggle escaped, Simon spun around and glared at him accusingly but that only made it worse. He couldn't stop himself from laughing properly, and the more he tried the louder his laughs became. Simon's expression turned from an angry glare to a slightly hurt look of embarrassment.

"I'm _sorry_," cried Robin. "I'm _really_ sorry… it's just, that's probably then same expression _I_ had the first time I discovered what Kim kept under her bed –"

There was something about Robin's laugh; something genuine and natural, something that made Simon remember one of the many things he loved about him in the first place. People had always said Robin was the happy-go-lucky one of the two of them. Simon had missed his laughter and his humour. He hadn't realised until right then just how _much_, maybe above everything else. No wonder he'd been so depressed and humourless since he and Robin had been parted. It wasn't just from being separated from the man he loved but he needed that lighter side to balance out his personality. He knew he took the world too seriously sometimes. Well, _most_ of the time if he was honest. Robin's personality had always served as a foil for that.

The tiniest hint of a smile appeared on his face. It wasn't much but it was a start. Just a little of the ice had been broken now. Maybe that was what they needed. Maybe that was all it would take, or maybe things would go back to the way they were, strained and bitter. But Robin took that tiny twitch of a smile to be the first sign that just maybe, despite everything, their past closeness wouldn't go to waste after all. If there was any chance of a friendship, any chance of repairing a little of their understanding, then that was worth holding onto.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

Kim moved at a snail's pace from the wheelchair back into bed. Aside from her ribs, her legs were sore and bruised and every inch of her body was hurting. She crawled slowly under the covers, glaring at the nurse who dared to offer to help.

"You'll be given some more pain relief shortly," she told Kim, "the night-time round will begin in a few minutes."

"It will be pregnancy-safe won't it?" Kim asked, "they do know?"

The nurse tried not to roll her eyes.

"I'm sure the doctor who prescribed them knows his job," she said.

"No need for that," scowled Kim.

She waited until the nurse was halfway out the door before slipping her the finger, then he laid back against her pillows and closed her eyes. Breathing deeply, she pictured the ring she'd placed on Robin's finger. She was sure she'd have another fight to keep it on there in the morning but for now at least she felt as though he had a piece of her with him while his body fought to recover.

"Kim Stringer?"

Kim looked up expecting to see a doctor or nurse with the night-time medication.

"Yes?"

A man in a white uniform entered but he didn't seem to be a medical professional. Was he a porter? She wasn't sure what was going on.

"You're Robin Thomas's next of Kin?" he asked.

Kim hesitated. She swallowed.

"I suppose I am," she whispered, that thought making her feel strangely warm inside.

"These are his personal items," the man told her, handing her a bag, "these are the things he had on him when he was brought in."

Kim took the clear plastic bag.

"Thank you," she whispered. She waited for the man to leave before she cautiously opened it and picked through what was inside. She felt grateful to have them, as strange as that might have sounded. A little bit of Robin to make her feel closer to him that night. She found his wallet and his keys, a few other things, and the stopped watch. Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach. Exactly how much had the watch meant? What kind of a warning had it been? She shuddered and put it back in the bag.

There was one other item in there. She swallowed as she stared at it. For a moment she hesitated but her curiosity got the better of her. Slowly she took the small jewellery box from the bag and opened it up. One moment passed in which she couldn't quite bring herself to look, then in the next instant she turned to the ring inside and her eyes instantly filled up again. God, what the hell was _wrong_ with her? Crying was not her style, it never had been.

But the ring, on the other hand, _was_ her style.

Had anyone ever known her better than Robin? She didn't think so.

She took the ring from the box, her hand shaking slightly, and slipped it onto her finger. It was a little big but she didn't care. She could soon get that fixed, a bit of resizing and no one would know. Her eyes closed as she clasped her hands together and prayed with all of her heart that Robin was strong enough to make it back. She knew now that, _whatever_ was happening the other side of the line, they were meant to be together. Robin made her life make sense when very little else did.

She was giving him no choice but to get better. It was the only option he was allowed.

**~xXx~**

_Don't leave me in all this pain_

_Don't leave me out in the rain_

_Come back and bring back my smile_

_Come and take these tears away_

_I need your arms to hold me now_

_The nights are so unkind_

_Bring back those nights when I held you beside me_

_Un-break my heart_

_Say you'll love me again_

_Un-do this hurt you caused_

_When you walked out the door_

_And walked outta my life_

_Un-cry these tears_

_I cried so many nights_

_Un-break my heart, my heart_

_Take back that sad word good-bye_

_Bring back the joy to my life_

_Don't leave me here with these tears_

_Come and kiss this pain away_

_I can't forget the day you left_

_Time is so unkind_

_And life is so cruel without you here beside me_

_Un-break my_

_Un-break my heart, oh baby_

_Come back and say you love me_

_Un-break my heart_

_Sweet darlin'_

_Without you I just can't go on_

_Can't go on_

_~ Unbreak my Heart – Toni Braxton_


	10. Chapter 9: Things Can Only Get Better

_**A/N: We're sticking with 2012 today to move the story on a little way, and tomorrow (writing permitted!) we'll be spending the day in 1997. Hey, do you think I need to put the rating up to M for increased beard coverage in a couple of chapters' time? Could be fairly traumatic… :-P**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter Nine**

**2012**

Alex felt as though she'd had the strangest night of her life. As though sleeping in a car, in a hospital car park no less, wasn't strange enough the peculiar brush that she'd had with something that appeared to be a highly physical illusion of Gene had left her feeling both spooked and touched. She couldn't have felt much closer to him if she'd tried.

She straightened herself up a little and ran her fingers through her hair. She supposed she looked a fair old sight, but she didn't really care. Who was going to see her but a bunch of doctors and Kim? She wasn't going to have a starring role on TV or attend a movie premiere.

She climbed out of the car with a newspaper under her arm, taking a moment to get her stiff legs working again and began to head towards the hospital. A strong coffee – that was what she needed. A strong coffee and then a visit to Kim. What worried her was working out what came next. She still needed to work out how to get home and with Robin in critical condition in a Mancunian hospital and Kim in a bad way it looked like this time she might have to do it alone.

~xXx~

"I thought hospitals were supposed to be a place of rest," Kim accused after she'd been woken up yet again to have her blood pressure and temperature taken. This had been going on all night and she felt less rested than she had after a 24 hour stake-out. She pulled faces at the nurse as she left the room but her expression softened and lightened at the arrival of Alex. _"Ma'am,"_ she sighed, "am I glad to see you." Kim didn't _do_ hospitals and the arrival of a friendly face was a real relief.

"Good morning," Alex smiled, a newspaper tucked under her arm, "have you managed to avoid threatening any medical staff yet?"

"Partially," said Kim who couldn't; quite remember if she had the night before or not. _Damn medication._ She adjusted her position slightly, flinching as the pain ran through her chest. He sighed and looked back at Alex. "Can I ask your professional psychological opinion on something?"

Alex sat down by her bed.

"I suppose so…?" she said.

"Do I feel sick because I know I'm pregnant now or is it because Robin isn't there to have my symptoms for me?" Kim asked.

Alex gave her a gentle smile.

"I think it might have more to do with the large amounts of painkillers they're pumping into you at the moment," she said.

Kim nodded. She hadn't thought of that.

"Could be," she said quietly.

Alex studied her pale face and the dark circles under her eyes.

"How are you feeling this morning?" she asked worriedly.

"Starving," said Kim.

"I thought you were feeling nauseous?"

"A bit of both," sighed Kim.

Alex gave a gentle smile.

"Ahh yes, I remember that phase well," she said fondly.

"I couldn't eat the breakfast, Ma'am," Kim complained as though she was talking of her greatest trauma, "do you know what they gave me?"

"Not that lasagne again?" asked Alex, "with cornflakes on top?"

"Worse," said Kim, "they gave me cold toast. Cold toast with one of those little butter pats that was really hard and covered with condensation where it'd just been taken out the fridge. How the hell was I supposed to spread _that_ on cold toast? Damn thing wouldn't melt! I almost called DCI Huston to get him to talk a load of hot air over it down the phone, soften it up a bit. I ended up with little butter molehills," Kim pouted.

"Well, we'll see what we can do about that," Alex assured her. She noticed Kim fiddling profusely with something on her hand and looked down to see the ring on her finger. "What's this?" she asked, knowing full well how nosy she was being. There was a distant look on Kim's face that seemed both sad and hopeful.

"They brought in Rob's personal belongings last night," she said quietly, "this ring was amongst them. He could have only just bought it when the whole thing happened."

Alex felt herself sighing. She shook her head slightly and said,

"There seems to be a curse attached to getting engaged."

"I noticed that," Kim said quietly. She looked up and exchanged a knowing look with Alex, the kind of look that could only pass between two people who had shared some very unique experiences. She knew that they were looking at the same problem from opposite sides now – Alex needed to get home, and Kim needed to bring Robin back. As though reading her thoughts, Alex began,

"We need to work out what to do next."

Kim nodded slowly, biting on her lip. She almost cursed herself for picking up Robin's habits but stopped when she realised she was almost glad. She'd never been in a relationship where she felt that close to someone that she took on their mannerisms. For his part, Robin had taken on a little of her sharp tongue. It was fairly amusing for Kim to see.

"Where do we go from here, Ma'am?" she asked quietly.

Alex wished that she had an answer.

"I think we came as far as we could with Manchester," she said, "We've set the wheels in motion to get Gene's final resting place recognised as his. Came so close…" she stopped talking for a moment as she remembered once again that if only she'd stayed in the shop a little longer she could have been home by now.

"So what now?" Kim asked. She seemed weaker and more lost than Alex was used to seeing.

"I don't know, Kim," she said quietly. She took the newspaper from under her arm and laid it on the bed, "although I'm wondering if this might have a few clues."

"What is it?" "Kim asked, dragging the paper towards her and scanning the headline, "Drugs?"

Alex shook her head.

"Read the date, not the headline," she said.

As soon as Kim spotted the part Alex wanted her to see she felt herself take in an involuntary gasp. She couldn't quite comprehend it.

"Where did you get this?" she whispered.

"In the car," said Alex. She looked a little awkward, "that wasn't the only thing I found in the car, either."

"What do you mean?" frowned Kim, "and… and I didn't think you were allowed to drive yet?"

Alex sighed.

"I wasn't driving," she said, "I stayed in the Fiat overnight."

"_Ma'am!"_ Kim admonished, "are you crazy? Weren't you cold? That couldn't have been good for you or the baby –"

"Will you leave the lecture for now and listen?" Alex admonished. Kim looked a little abashed. "It seemed the best thing to do," Alex explained, "it was familiar to me. It made me feel close to home. And I was nearby in case anything happened overnight."

Kim could understand, in a way. She still wasn't happy with the thought of Alex sleeping on the backseat but there was little she could do about that now.

"Go on," she said.

Alex took a deep breath.

"I know this sounds ridiculous," she said, "believe me, if someone said the same thing to me I'd be sending them for a nice trip to a padded cell. But while I was sleeping…" she closed her eyes and felt a hint of a smile across her face. "It felt… it felt like Gene was there beside me."

"In the car?" frowned Kim.

Alex nodded.

"Oh, I _know_ that sounds stupid," she said, almost cross with herself for admitting to it, "but it's made me feel sure I haven't missed my chance. The window of opportunity is still open. I just need to work out a way through."

She knew that it wasn't going to be easy and that things were much more complicated now but she would still find that route home. Her strange experience in the night made her even more certain of that. Alex Drake was not the kind of person to give up easily. She knew when to keep fighting, and this was one of those times.

~xXx~

The passing of time is a very strange thing.

Kim observed that hospital days seemed to be at least twice as long as normal days. She hated the place with a passion and actually found the meals were her highlight. So they were made of inedible, possibly highly toxic crud but at least it brought a distraction. Otherwise there was too much sitting around, having vital signs checked, being prodded and poked, and being patronised by doctors for Kim's liking.

She counted down the hours as two days passed, desperately waiting for every piece of news about Robin's condition. When the legendary 48 hour mark had passed and the news was still positive – that he was fighting, that there had been no complications and that he was starting to show some improvements - she cried like a baby. She'd only been allowed a very limited time with him over the last two days, and always supervised like crazy. She resented that. She needed some time alone with him.

On the third day following the shooting and accident, a barrage of news came all at once from different sources.

Kim sat up in bed, staring at a bowl full of mushy Weetabix. It turned her stomach. What on earth possessed the caterers to mash it up? How old did they think she was? Or did they assume she didn't have all her own teeth? Aside from a stream of chocolate biscuits that Alex brought from the gift shop she'd barely eaten since she'd been admitted and her stomach was constantly grumbling with emptiness. Beside the gluey lasagne and the poo pudding she'd been served carrots that tasted like soil, rice that had been stuck in a large lump and something that was supposed to have been roast beef but was not only cold it also seemed to be mostly plastic.

"Oh, _Rob,"_ she muttered to herself, "wake the hell up and bring back your cooking. Even if it's beans, I don't care."

Alex's arrival brought Kim's attention back to the horrific-looking Weetabix.

"Ugh," she gagged, "what's _that?_ Did someone bring a picture of Andrew Ridgeley onto the ward?"

"No," Kim sighed and pushed the tray away, "that's supposed to be my breakfast,. It's Weetabix. Apparently."

"What have they _done_ to it? Tested out nuclear weapons on it?"

"Looks that way," Kim pulled a face.

Alex sat down beside her. There was a smile preparing to grow on her face, just bubbling under the surface.

"I've got some news," she said.

"Please tell me the news is that you've heard this place is employing a new caterer," Kim begged.

"Better," said Alex. She drew in a deep breath. "Hayley Ford called me a few minutes ago and told me that she's received confirmation that they are reopening the investigation into the identity of the Unknown PC and looking into the possibility of it being her long lost relative, PC Gene Hunt."

"Ma'am, that's _wonderful,"_ Kim knew how important that was to Alex, "you must be so relieved."

"Oh, I am," Alex nodded slowly. Even though things hadn't gone according to plan with her attempt to get back to Gene it was still so important to her to get him recognised for who he as in the real world. If she'd never managed to set the wheels in motion she would always have regretted it.

A doctor arrived in the doorway, looking less than happy to be there. Kim's attitude towards being prodded and poked wasn't exactly a positive one and he feared losing at least one limb through the sheer presence of being there, but he reluctantly began,

"Good morning, Kim, how are we feeling today?"

"_We?"_ Kim raised an eyebrow, "I suspect you are feeling somewhat better than_ I_ am, on the account of not being served something that looks like three people have eaten the damn stuff already."

The doctor thought he'd gotten away quite lightly with that one. He approached Kim cautiously and told her,

"You've been responding well to the painkillers, your vital signs are normal and there's not much else that we can do for you here. We'd like to give you one more scan today to check the baby is doing well and see what's going on with the clot, and if everything looks satisfactory you should be able to leave hospital later today."

Kim stared at him in shock. That had come out of the blue.

"Pardon?" she asked incredulously.

"You'll be discharged this afternoon," the doctor reiterated, "as long as you feel strong enough."

"_Yes,"_ Kim said quickly with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm, "I mean, I do…. Thank you." the promise of freedom gave her a boost and she found herself giving her first smile in a long time.

"Now, about Mister Thomas," the doctor continued, checking some notes he'd brought with him, "as you are aware he is stable. He has yet to regain consciousness, but his body _has_ been through a massive trauma. His heart has stopped on more than one occasion. His brain was without oxygen for some time and there is no way of knowing how severe the damage will be until the day that he regains consciousness."

"Do you think that he will?" It was a very different Kim asking that question. Her voice was quiet and uncertain, her words full of fear.

"At this stage it's difficult to know," the doctor told her honestly, "but we've given him the best care that was can." He looked at his notes again. "I see you requested that he be transferred to Fenchurch General?"

Kim nodded.

"Yes," she said, "we're a long way from home and we can deal with things better when we're back down there. He'll be closer to his colleagues and friends, they'll be able to visit him." She paused and frowned, "that's if anyone would let him have a proper visit without some nurse hanging over their shoulder."

"I think he's stable enough now for you to stay with him unsupervised," the doctor told her,.

Kim looked at him incredulously.

"Are you sure?" she asked, fearing that she was only going to be set up for a disappointment.

The doctor nodded.

"And if you feel prepared and ready we will look into transferring him to your local hospital within the next couple of days."

"Are you serious?" cried Kim.

"That would be fantastic," Alex closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn't keep sleeping in the fiat and didn't have enough money for more nights in a hotel room.

"We'll speak about the details later," the doctor told them, "for now, rest as much as you can and we'll see about arranging your scan later this morning."

"Thank you," Kim said, surprisingly humbly for her considering she was in a hospital. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief as the doctor left the room. There was a way to go yet but she felt as though they were all making progress, in so many ways. Maybe this time things were going to really turn out for the best.

~xXx~

The doctor proved true to his word. A little before midday Kim found the portable ultrasound machine back in her room and her belly covered with gel. While the clot was still there and needed monitoring over time the baby was still looking healthy and strong, and that was what she needed to hear.

"Maybe there are some good points to finding out so late," She said quietly to Alex once the scan was over.

Alex recalled her own late discovery back in Gene's world. She couldn't especially think of any.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I'm way past the time I miscarried the last two times," Kim told her, "imagine if I found out at the start. I'd have worried myself to death, remembering what happened before. I know there's still a way to go before I'll really feel safe, especially with the bleeding, but all those weeks… I'd have driven myself crazy."

"Instead it was poor Robin going crazy," Alex pointed out with a wry smile.

Kim smiled back. That reminded her. Now Robin was a little more stable and Kim was allowed time alone with him there was something important she had to do.

~xXx~

He was still covered with tubes and wires but, one by one, some had started to disappear. It was the first time Kim had been allowed to walk to his room instead of find herself escorted by a nurse and a wheelchair. It felt strange to walk in alone and to sit down beside the bed, in a nice normal chair. His eyes were still closed and his expression blank but she knew where he was. She knew how this worked now.

"Hey," she whispered leaning closer to him. She picked up his hand and squeezed it, relieved to find the ring still in place. It had been a daily battle, getting the doctors to leave it where it was. But it was a battle she was winning. She brushed a little hair from his face and swallowed. She'd been building up to this for the last few days. Now she was here and finally had her chance she was scared of losing her nerve.

_"Couvade syndrome,"_ Those were the first words that came to mind. She took a deep breath and steeled herself to carry on. Was he listening? Could he hear? Would her words filter through? "Have you heard of that one, Rob?" She knew she must have looked quite a sight, with tears already running down her cheeks, her skin pale and her hair in a mess. She tried to wipe the tears away as she whispered, "I promised myself I wouldn't do this. I always told myself if you went first I would let you be with Simon." And it was true. She always had. She could never have imagined Robin choosing her over him, but now she wasn't so sure. "But something's happened now, Rob, and I can't… can't just leave you there without at least giving you the choice…"

She looked all around her to make sure no one was listening. God, why was she feeling so nervous about this? It wasn't as though they hadn't been _trying_. A _lot_. But the timing -

"I'm _pregnant,"_ she breathed, barely able to get the words out. They choked her up inside with a swell of emotion. "They think I'm about nine weeks, Rob, it's… it's much further than I've got before… not like we're out of the woods, but things are looking so much more hopeful. I've had some bleeding… there could still be complications but I refuse to believe anything else bad can happen to us right now." She paused and let her head drop a little as she tried to carry on. _"Nine weeks_… please don't think I'm an idiot, Rob, I had no idea, because _you_ had all my bloody symptoms. Bloody typical, you are, Robin – see, that's why women shouldn't fall in love with gay men, you're so sensitive _you_ get the sympathetic pregnancy and I'm left clueless." She allowed herself a little sideways smile as she thought about the past few weeks; life with a '_pregnant'_ Robin. "So all that time I've been having a go about you getting up six times a night and scoffing down the beans you were just saving me from doing the same. Not a hysterical pregnancy, Rob, a _sympathetic_ one."

Her hand squeezed his tightly, the metal of his ring touching hers. She bit her lip as she recalled something that had been going round in her mind, a theory she couldn't shake. "I think it was that time on the bloody hospital chair, when Alex caught us." She turned red even thinking about the way their relationship was sprung in the most humiliating fashion. "Just got a feeling. The dates would fit. Alex's trauma was not in vain." She gave a little laugh at the thought of that. There had definitely been something special between them that day. Couldn't keep their hands off each other. Kim could tell in her mind it as meant to be.

"I… I was hit by a car," she tried to explain, not sure how much, if anything, Robin could hear, or whether he'd hear her at all," We heard the gunshot and I started running toward the shop. This car… it came out of nowhere," she flinched. "I've got a couple of cracked ribs… so what's new?" she took a deep breath. "But because I needed x-rays they tested for pregnancy, and that's when they found out. I didn't know whether to tell you… If you're with Simon then, I understand if you don't want to come back, but you had to know, Rob. And then they gave me that ring they found in your pocket… and Alex told me… she said you'd asked her some questions… that you were thinking about it…it's perfect, Rob. I mean, it's a bit big but, fuck it, I'm wearing it anyway." She choked back a sob before she could continue. "Guess what? Great minds think alike. I'd been planning to ask you the same question. I even bought the ring about an hour before you did. I never got the chance to give you yours. I've taken the liberty of putting it on your finger anyway. I –I hope that's alright. Bloody doctors keep trying to take it off. I'm guarding it. Don't give a damn about their jewellery rules."

She stared at him begging silently for some sign of life.

"So you see, you _have_ to come back." Those were the words she promised herself she wouldn't say, but suddenly she couldn't stop herself. "I need you. I need you to come and do all the things you promised me we'd do if we…. If I was…" she had to stop for a moment to wipe her eyes and compose herself. "You've got to come back; got to hold my hand when I'm on the table and they're doing the scans. Got to tease me about getting fat and waddling. Got to make stupid suggestions for names and take the punishment when I throw stuff at you for picking things from Red Dwarf. You've got to come back because I miss you. And I love you. And I've never said that enough." That was her biggest regret. She told herself silently that if he made it back she'd never stop reminding him. "They're transferring you to Fenchurch General tomorrow if you're strong enough. I'll be with you all of the way."

She closed her eyes and leaned forward slowly to hiss his cheek. Her ribs hurt and throbbed but she didn't care. It was nothing compared to what Robin would have to fight to make it back.

"Be strong," she urged him. With that she got to her feet slowly and left the room, glancing back one more time. Somehow things had to get better. Everything had to work out. Robin would make it back and Alex would get home too. Then there would be weddings and babies and all kinds of cheesy stuff that would usually turn Kim's stomach but somehow, in the middle of a great big metaphysical mess, seemed like something solid and definite to hold onto.

The future was a scary place. But then again, so was the past. Wherever Robin was, Kim just hoped he had the strength to fight his way home.

**~xXx~**

_#...You can walk my path_

_you can wear my shoes_

_learn to talk like me_

_and be an angel too_

_But maybe_

_you ain't never gonna feel this way_

_you ain't never gonna know me_

_but I know you_

_I'm singing it now_

_things can only get better_

_can only get better_

_if we see it through_

_that's means me_

_and that means you too_

_So teach me now that_

_things can only get better_

_can only get_

_can only get_

_take it on from here_

_you know I know_

_that things can only get better_

_I sometimes lose myself in me_

_I lose track of time_

_and I can't see the woods for the trees_

_you said I'm alight_

_burn the bridges as you've gone_

_I'm too weak to fight you_

_I've got my personal hell to deal with_

_then you say_

_Walk my path_

_wear my shoes_

_talk like that_

_I'll be an angel_

_And things can only get better_

_can only get better_

_now I found you_

_Things can only get better_

_can only get better_

_now I found you_

_and you and you_

_You showed me prejudice and greed_

_and you showed me how_

_I must learn to deal with this disease_

_I look at things now_

_in a different light than I did before_

_and I found the cause_

_and I think that you can be my cure_

_So teach me to_

_walk your path_

_wear your shoes_

_talk like that_

_I'll be an angel_

_And things can only get better_

_can only get better_

_now I found you_

_Things can only get better_

_can only get better_

_now I found you…#_

_~ Things Can Only Get Better – D:Ream_


	11. Chapter 10: Sugar Coated Iceberg

_**A/N: Ugh, had my last antenatal apt this morning and it wasn't exactly fun, I feel like death warmed up so here's one I prepared earlier :) Some of the events referenced in this chapter occurred in my first non-A2A story, Bigger than Us, focusing on Robin and Kim (and Nailer) which is up on my Fictionpress account – the link is on my profile x**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter Ten**

**1997**

Gene rubbed his bruised backside as he climbed out of the car and paced towards the station. Something very fishy was going on. It had been a very strange night. After his strange plunge between the seats he hadn't been able to shake the feeling of someone else being there with him, nor the aroma of Alex. Her shampoo, her perfume, just her general scent; the scent of Bolly as he knew it. He was usually so used to it, now that it had been months since he'd last caught that scent it made it stand out even more.

Now, however, his already tender posterior had suffered from a crude bump on the floor and getting wedged between the seats. He was still feeling bruised and battered from his tumble down the stairs while fighting with Keats and now he had an extra wound to add to his collection. And he didn't even have anyone to rub liniment into his arse. He vaguely remembered a dream about such a thing, but he wasn't quite sure about that.

He strode to CID on a mission. Today he was going to start his campaign to bring in Layton, and no matter what it took he was going to track that shrivelled scrotum down because that was the first step to getting Alex home. What she was doing on the other side of the line, he had no idea but he wasn't going to let her down from his side.

~xXx~

Ever since the ice had been broken the night before things had started to thaw a slight amount between Simon and Robin. Things were still awkward and stilted but they were exchanging a few words rather than avoiding each other or passing by in stony silence. They had dropped the big topics after Robin's accidental bombshell about what lurked beneath the bed but both knew there as more ground to cover in the future. Quite aside from Robin and Kim's situation there was the small matter of genetic connections that they needed to work through. For Robin, seeing Simon and Gene as father and son, however bizarre and unexpected, put a new perspective on why Simon was had found himself swallowed up into the world so quickly and for Simon trying to accept that the man he still loved shared half his genetics with Keats was hard to understand.

Robin was fastening his top button when Simon came from the kitchen into the lounge.

"Morning," he said a little awkwardly. Robin gave him a slightly weak smile, still nervous around him.

"Morning, Simon," he said quietly.

"Do you want to walk down to the station together?"

Simon's offer caught Robin by surprise. Up until that point one had always been desperate to avoid the other. Cautiously Robin smiled and nodded.

"OK," he said, "I'd like that."

Despite the walk to work being somewhat quiet and still hesitant it was definite progress. While both worried that the shaky, thin ice beneath them would crack at any moment it was at least a start. Maybe things could move forward instead of round in circles.

~xXx~

Victoria awoke in her crisp, white sheets and snuggled against them for just a few moments longer. She knew she had to get up but it just felt so much more inviting to stay there, right where she was. It was a world better than going to work. A while eternity better than facing Fenchurch West and Jim Keats. The day before had been her day off and she couldn't believe she'd wasted half of it at the prison with Nailer.

Eventually she knew she couldn't delay the inevitable any longer. She climbed slowly from her bed, her long shapely legs moving in silken pyjamas, and walked from her bedroom to the corridor. She was about to head to the bathroom to take a shower when she heard a noise; a metallic clanking like someone had dropped a spoon. She froze instantly, her heart leaping around in her chest. Had something just fallen or was there someone in her flat? A mumbled swearword seemed to suggest the second option. She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. _Shit, shit, shit;_ her head screamed again and again but her body didn't know what to do. She was frozen with fear. She knew how to deal with hostage negotiations, bank raids, murderers and thugs but someone on her own property? Her legs went to jelly.

She leaned hard against the wall, breathing heavily. Where the hell was her gun? Oh yeah, she didn't bloody have one. _Shit!_ Quickly she dived back into her bedroom and grasped for the nearest thing she could find, a large decorative vase made of swirling, coloured glass. Whoever was lurking the other side of the kitchen door was going to find themselves intimately acquainted with the thing.

One foot after another. One step at a time. One breath followed by another nervous breath. She made her way slowly to the kitchen door and drew in her breath. This was it. No turning back. Victoria Vs. Giant Mutant Spoon-dropping Monster or whoever was the other side of the door

One…

Two…

Three –

"_Yeeeaaarrrggghhhhhh!" _

She gave a scream like a cartoon character as she ran through the doorway, vase held high and stopped just short of smashing it over the head of the man sitting at the table.

The man, sitting at the table, drinking coffee.

The man, sitting at the table who'd apparently also made a cup of coffee for her and was busy helping himself to cornflakes.

He looked up and flashed her a charming smile.

"Why do the silk pyjamas not surprise me?" he asked.

"Oh my fucking _God,"_ Victoria could barely breathe as she lowered the vase and felt her heart pumping hard, "how the hell… I mean… what are you…" she couldn't get her words out. She tripped over her tongue and tried again and again to express her shock and horror at the fact that Nick Nailer appeared to be sitting quite comfortably at her kitchen table. She wasn't sure what she wanted to ask him first: how he got 'out' or how he got _in_. Either way, this was going to be the end for her. The end of her life. The end of her career. She had an escaped prisoner sitting at her table, eating breakfast. That was the kind of thing that was going to put a crimp on anyone's day.

~xXx~

Simon and Robin had barely made it through the door when the shadow of Gene's bulk stopped them in their tracks and they froze to find him standing there, waiting for them. He was looking serious, grim and somewhat bruised as well.

"I… take it this is your hint that Fletcher transferred to you the tainted drugs case?" Simon made an educated guess but Gene's expression barely changed.

"Things have moved on a bit from that," he said, "another rodent's gnawed its way through the bars overnight."

Robin frowned, confused. It was too early in the morning for riddles.

"What?"

Gene turned around and began a very fast and pointed walk through the corridor and Robin and Simon had no choice but to follow with hurried footsteps behind.

"You'll love this," he told them, only half sarcastically, "I'm adding it to me file of things that aren't coincidences."

Robin glanced sideways at Simon who shook his head slightly and shrugged. He'd learnt the hard way that it was better just to keep quiet and wait for Gene to explain himself.

~xXx~

Victoria knew she was shaking as she sat opposite the escaped dealer at her kitchen table. He seemed fairly relaxed, as though he had every right to be there. She, on the other hand, couldn't have been more terrified but not for the reasons he'd have expected.

"I can't believe you're sitting there, nonchalantly drinking coffee, which," she narrowed her eyes, "you didn't have my permission to use."

"Well I could try drinking it fretfully but there doesn't seem a lot of fun in that," Nailer smiled charmingly.

"Fretfully?" Victoria rubbed her forehead, "for someone who's spent their life frying their brain you know more words than half of Fenchurch West."

"Everything in moderation." Nailer told her as he slurped his coffee, then looked slightly abashed by the noise he'd just made and tried to cover it up by wiping his mouth in a more delicate manner. "I sample. I treat myself. But I'm not an addict. Unlike," his whole tone changed, "a certain gentleman we spoke about yesterday."

"How did you even _get_ here?" Victoria cried, "You were in prison, I can only presume you escaped somehow overnight since I don't think they let people out early for smarmy behaviour."

Nailer looked a little hurt. _Smarmy_? He was going for charming. Maybe he was overdoing it a bit. He'd been stuck in prison without female company for over a year – especially not _attractive_ members of the female population like Victoria – he decided to rein in his eye for beauty and concentrate on the more serious matters at hand.

"It doesn't matter how I got here," he said, "you'll turn on the telly later and it will tell you. Right now you need to take me seriously and help me stop Arthur Layton from muddying the waters of Fenchurch with his tainted drugs."

"Stop him ruining your reputation more like," Victoria said.

"Listen," Nailer leaned forward which made her move back a little nervously, "Layton is dangerous. I don't just mean in terms of what he's peddling. He's got a screw loose. A few of them actually. I worked with the man, I got to know a bit about him. Yes, I asked him to put together a bomb to destroy my files and protect my work. Yes, I asked him to do me a couple of little favours before that. But I would never bring him on board as anything more permanent than that and there's a damn good reason why. He's unstable. Too many years on the stuff, and too much guilt."

"Guilt?" Victoria frowned.

"Look, I'm no psychiatrist but I can see when someone's not right in the head," Nailer said quietly, "he went out his way to blame everyone else for the things he'd done in the past. Used to ramble on about guilt and blame. Quick fix and he'd calm right down, but when he was strung out and looking for his next hit his mouth would run away with him. Forget what he put in my computer, he's a bloody time bomb by himself and someone's already set off the trigger. Now we just have to wait for him to explode, and in the meanwhile he's using my business, my name and my line of trade to get back into the scene. The greater presence he gives himself now, the more people he'll hurt in the long run and I'm talking about more than a few tainted pills and powders. He is a sick man, Vicky, a sick man."

Victoria stared at Nailer and felt herself starting to shake again but this time it wasn't through fear. Or maybe it was, but it was fear of something deep down inside of her. Something in the way he looked at her, something in his eyes – it all felt so familiar. It stirred something deep down. It was like the strongest sense of deja vu she'd ever had in her life and she couldn't explain what was happening to her.

Deeply buried memories tried to fight their way up to the surface but didn't get very far. There was a sense of safety that she felt around this man, the man she really should feel threatened by, and a strong feeling of familiarity. She found herself drawn to him, the choice between trusting him or trusting Keats and his station suddenly feeling so much easier and so simple. She swallowed and stared at him, his eyes bearing an honesty she wasn't used to seeing in people that should be the other side of the bars. Eventually she felt herself nodding, almost imperceptibly, telling herself rather than Nailer of her decision.

"Alright," she whispered. She saw Nailer raise an eyebrow, "alright. I'll help you. God knows why…" she got to her feet and swept her fingers desperately through her hair, "…my career will be over, my life will be over –"

"Your life is about to begin," Nailer promised her, "away from that Keas man and his twisted head."

Victoria stared at him and swallowed hard. This was a mistake, this was all a big mistake, right?

Then why didn't she feel that way inside?

~xXx~

"What exactly has happened?"

Simon felt a little threatened by Gene's constant pacing. He hadn't seen him this worked up about a case in a long time, certainly not since Alex's disappearance from the world. Gene had another matter on his mind first though. He turned to Simon and Robin and began,

"Before I fill in the blanks with the pile of steaming horse manure that is Arthur Layton's life story, I need to know something." He stopped pacing and stared at them with a serious and half-murderous glare. "Can you two work together or are you going to spend more time ripping each other's heads off than dipping into the dark underworld of Fenchurch and its drug culture?"

Simon glanced at Robin who was looking a little awkward. His eyes turned for a moment to meet Simon's. both felt uncomfortable, with the situation as well as the question, even though Gene was more than justified in asking them.

"Yes," Simon said quietly, "we can work together fine."

"You'd better," Gene threatened, "because if yer spurned love advances and jealous outbreaks ruin me chances off getting Bols back where she belongs I'll string you both up with yer novelty Red Dwarf shoelaces and leave you for the toasters to deal with." He leaned a little closer. "And for the record, I don't care who shares DNA with who or what bloody genetic hang-ups are cluttering up yer bins, those can wait. I know they're still there. I can feel the bloody white elephant sitting on me head. But until Layton's behind bars and DCI Drake is back in business they don't exist. Right?"

Slowly and awkwardly Simon nodded.

"Fine," he said quietly.

Robin nodded too.

"No problem," he said quietly.

"_Good."_ Gene finally sat down. He reached into his drawer and pulled out a newspaper, relieved that this one hadn't disappeared. He threw it cross the desk to Robin and Simon. "Old friend of ours has gone for a wander," he said.

Simon unfolded the paper and they read the headline together. Two pairs of shocked eyes rose to meet Gene's.

"Nailer's out?" cried Simon.

"When… how did this happen?" Robin asked.

"Last night," Gene told them, "friends in high places, apparently. Bloody show off, most people get a nail file in a cake, he gets his mates to get jobs in the prison service and sneak him out."

Instantly Robin froze. This was all sounding a little too familiar for his liking.

"Please tell me you're joking," he whispered.

"Why?" Gene demanded.

Robin looked down at the front page of the paper and swallowed.

"Two thousand and eleven," He whispered, "Nailer pulled the exact same trick."

Simon looked at him with wide eyes.

"You're kidding?"

"I wish I was," Robin said quietly.

"He was pulled from his cell in the early hours of the morning," Gene explained, "official transfer an' all. Problem was, driver of the prison van happened to be one of his closest business associates and drove him to a land far, far away."

Robin's heart was racing and so was his mind.

"_Shit,"_ he sighed, shaking his head. He put his head in his hands and started breathing heavily as though he was about to throw up on the carpet.

"You need medical attention, Batman, or is this a new-fangled two thousand and bollocks technique for dealing with escaped dealers?"

Robin swallowed and tried to calm himself a little. He breathed in very deeply and exhaled slowly, then looked back at Gene who looked as though he was fearing an impromptu yoga session or something.

"It's… a bit more complicated than that," he said, "Nailer's last escape… It affected me personally."

"If you were on the case then you're the best person to tell us how to find him," Simon told him.

"I wasn't on the case, I was _in_ the case," Robin corrected he shook his head. "Actually, I was in a warehouse, tied up." He hung his head, "_kidnapped."_

Simon frowned.

"By Nailer?"

"By Nailer's men," Robin explained.

It was the first Simon had heard of this.

"When was this?" he demanded.

Robin robbed his forehead. It wasn't exactly his favourite memory.

"April? May? Sometime around there." He shook his head. "It wasn't exactly straightforward though. Nailer didn't want to escape. He'd spent years with these… plans in place, bloody audacious ones too, but he was sick of the lifestyle. Tired of always having to stay one step ahead of the police. When he found himself arrested, especially after being set up in an undercover operation and losing the woman he thought was in love with him, he didn't want to do it any more. He settled into prison life and seemed -" he paused, knowing how strange it sounded, "genuinely _happy."_

"Back this one up a bit," Gene sighed, "how exactly did they net Nailer in two thousand and bollocks?"

"Some undercover thing," Robin sighed, "they sent in a detective to infiltrate his inner circle. Told her to do whatever she needed to. He fell in love with her, genuinely fell in love with her, but she got in too deep with the drugs. And got addicted. It was a bad batch that did her in," Robin looked at Gene seriously, "and the drugs didn't come from Nailer."

"Are you telling me our friend Mister Layton might have been involved with her poisoned sherbet?" he asked.

Robin nodded.

"The coincidences just keep crawling out of the woodwork, don't they?" he said.

"Hold on," Simon was finding the kidnapped-Robin bit difficult to get past,

"I'm not sure I understand… he was sent to prison, didn't want to break out and then kidnapped you? To prove a point or -?"

"No, no," sighed Robin, "There was a hunt on for one of his men, the one who drove the prison van. I was…" he coughed, "_shopping,"_ he failed to mention that he'd just purchased a pregnancy test for Kim at the time, "and saw him outside. I gave chase but he wasn't alone. I got clobbered and woke up in some warehouse place in the middle of a logistics company. Nailer went mad, he'd really had enough."

"Well, Nailer Two Thousand and Bollocks might be tired but Nailer Ninety Seven has bags of energy," said Gene, "this was his request, his decision and his plan. Word from inside has it he wasn't pleased that certain characters were trying to take over his business."

"By certain characters," Simon began, "I assume we're talking about Layton?"

"No, Winnie the Pooh and Thomas the bloody Tank Engine, who do you think?" snapped Gene, "_yes,_ Layton."

"So not only are we on a race against time to get Layton but we're also racing to get there before Nailer?" Robin rubbed his forehead. His brain ached. "Great, more pressure, that's what we needed."

There was a slight commotion outside and Gene peered out of his office to see strangers gathering in CID.

"Great," he mumbled, "perfect timing. New recruits." he scowled, "and ones that look like they're off to film the _Top of the Pops Christmas special. _Bloody hell, how can anyone wear shoes that high without needing a sodding harness?"

Simon and Robin watched as Gene paced put of his office to deal with the fresh blood before they could continue their discussion and form a plan of action.

"Do you think any of those poor sods are going to get a filing cabinet in the back?" Robin asked.

"Statistically the chances would suggest at least half of them," said Simon.

They could already see Gene threatening one of the poor souls as the words _'boyband reject'_ and _'quiet little word about yer attire' _could be heard through the open door.

"He could be a while," Simon observed.

**~xXx~**

_I don't care what songs you sing_

_Or how you think of all those pointless things_

_Sweet nothings what you bring_

_So fly away on sugar coated wings_

_I'm sinking deep, I'm going under_

_That sugar coated iceberg tastes so sweet_

_Until you tumble, those sugar coated lies_

_All those tricky things you said_

_On angel wings they're flying around my head_

_You were cheap but I was sold_

_I should forget you but I won't be told_

_I'm sinking deep, I'm going under_

_That sugar coated iceberg tastes so sweet_

_Until you tumble, those sugar coated lies_

_Sweet and sour, as gold and coal_

_A sugar iceberg stole my soul_

_And hid it deep inside my heart_

_Threw it through me like a poison dart_

_I'm sinking deep, I'm going under_

_That sugar coated iceberg tastes so sweet_

_Until you tumble, those sugar coated lies_

_My little sweet sugar coated iceberg_

_You melt beneath my feet_

_You shook me up, but then I tumbled those_

_Sugar coated lies_

_~ Sugar Coasted Iceberg – The Lightning Seeds _


	12. Guess What?

**~xXx~ Unexpected Interlude ~xXx~**

Well guess what happened on Thursday night? Over a week before her due date, I went into labour and things happened in an extremely unexpected and dramatic fashion – because I have had 2 previous C-sections I was told I had to have another one for safety reasons (high risk of rupture at scar site) as well as the health issues I've had through the pregnancy. I was booked in for a C-section next tuesday and when labour started unexpectedly I called the hospital and they told me to come straight in since I'd need the section right away – but this little girl had other ideas and by the time I was taken into theatre it was already too late – she was about to arrive the natural way, like it or not! From start to finish labour took about 4 hours and at 1.24 a.m. on Friday Kimberley Daisy was born x

I wanted to say thank you to everyone who's read, reviewed and commented on my fics over the last few months, you've all helped keep me sane through a complicated, risky and trying pregnancy and a very hard spell of health. Writing has been my escape – thank you so much for sharing in it x

I was out of hospital in less than 24 hours because there were no complications so I'm home now and just enjoying spending time with my expanded family :) I won't be ceasing the writing though; from experience one handed typing through mammoth feeding sessions in the middle of the night will ensue!

I've only uploaded a couple of photos from my mobile so far but I'm hoping to upload the ones from my camera later – take the spaces out and copy and paste for a little look at her :)

https: /www. facebook. com/media/set/ ?set=a.10151581625420525. 849723.525745524& type=3&l=984cf1f9a8


	13. Chapter 11: You've Got A Friend

_**A/N: I'd written most of this chapter before a certain young lady made her unexpected arrival but now the one handed typing and editing is underway :D**_

**Chapter Eleven**

It felt as though it had been a lifetime since they were last in the flat.

As Alex turned the key in the lock to let Kim inside she felt a sinking in her heart. She'd left the flat the Saturday before, truly believing that Manchester would see her route home. She hadn't expected to see the place again. She tried to keep her disappointment and her lonely yearning for Gene and her home at bay. Now they were back on familiar territory she would start again and work out what they needed to do next.

"There you go," she said, stepping back to let Kim pass her.

Kim wished she hadn't done that. It was easier to walk behind people. That way others didn't have to watch her walking slowly and awkwardly. She hated that. She held one arm across her chest as though to keep her ribs as still as possible. It was stupid, it didn't really help but she found herself doing it anyway.

"Ma'am?" she began, "I know that you'd rather be elsewhere, but you do know this place is still your home, as long as you need it, right?"

Alex gave her a slightly sad smile.

"Thank you, Kim," she said, "And yes, I know."

Kim moved slowly to the lounge and switched on the light. It was at least comforting to be back on familiar territory but being there without Robin felt wrong and heart-breaking. She wasn't sure how she was going to sleep in their bed on her own that night.

"It's so strange being here without him," she said quietly.

Alex wished there was something she could say. With no words of comfort to offer she did the next best thing – the British thing –

"I'll put the kettle on," she said.

"It's OK," Kim told her, "I'll do it."

"You sit down," Alex told her, "for _god's_ sake. You've been running around after me for the last month, I think this is a pretty good reason to start paying you back a little."

Kim hated the thought of anyone running around after her, let alone Alex who she knew had been through the mill during their trip to Manchester for so many different reasons, but she was too exhausted to put up much of a fight. She even allowed Alex to gently push her onto the couch, despite throwing her a bit of a glare. It was strange how the tables had turned. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on her.

She leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment, silently begging herself not to fall asleep. It had been a very long day, starting with final checks and examinations to make sure Robin was stable enough to make the journey back to Fenchurch. She'd been allowed to travel with him and hadn't let go of his hand once during the journey, aside from needing to make a rude gesture at someone for suggesting she close her eyes and try to get some rest for a while.

After arriving at Fenchurch general she'd stayed as long as she'd been permitted while they organised his room in ICU and carried out an identical set of checks to see how he'd fared on the journey. Eventually they'd insisted that she leave for a while. With doctors concerned about her own condition she was told to come back in the morning and despite another round or rude gestures she finally had to give in to exhaustion and comply.

As Alex was still unable to drive and she had been reluctant to leave the Fiat in Manchester when it was her strongest link with home, especially after her strange encounter sleeping on the back seat a few nights before, she had managed to charm Hayley into driving the car back for her and dropping her down too. Hayley felt truly terrible about Robin's condition, even though the last thing she had expected was to be raided that day. Taking Alex and the car back to London helped to appease her slightly.

_"Plus I get to see some of London while I'm here,"_ she'd told Alex on the drive, _"I don't really get around much. Too busy with work."_

Alex remembered the last person who'd _been able to see a bit of London_ – poor Nelson after the Railway Arms was 'broken'. She wondered exactly how much money he'd lost on souvenirs that day.

Now they were back on home territory at least some progress had been made. The fact that Robin had been strong enough to make the journey had given Kim a boost and Alex had been reunited with her flipchart. That was an important step towards working out where things would go from there.

She switched on the light in her room as she waited for the kettle to boil and peered inside. There were boxes full of her packed belongings on the floor. She felt her heart breaking as she remembered how she'd felt packing them away, not long ago. Her eyes rose to the flipchart, her list of days. Now what? She would have to start all over again.

As she heard the kettle finish boiling she turned over the sheet to find a blank piece of paper. That made her feel a little better. _Fresh start._ New strategy. In the middle of the page she wrote '_Home'._ That was all she needed for now. In her mind, she had already started to forge a new plan.

She returned to the kitchen and made two coffees, then took them through to the lounge.

"I'm not asleep," Kim said quickly, raising her head as it had been lolling.

"You can sleep if you want," Alex told her.

"I don't want to," said Kim.

"You probably need to."

"I'll sleep later," said Kim.

Alex sat opposite her. Her eyes rose to the still clock on the wall; the one Robin had never been able to get started again. Everything seemed to have been pointing in one direction.

"Why am I not with him?"

Kim's sad words caught Alex's attention.

"Pardon?"

"Why am I not over there with him?" she asked quietly, "my watches have been stopping too. I got knocked down just after he got shot. To me it feels like I'm supposed to be there if he is, Ma'am."

Alex could see from the look on Kim's face that this was something she'd been dwelling on. It made a kind of sense when she thought about it too. She wished she had some answers for her but that was something that only fate knew.

"I'm sorry, Kim," she said quietly, "I don't know. Maybe you should have been over with him but something went wrong. Maybe it was as simple as the fact that Robin took my place and_ I'd_ have been going alone. Maybe you have a job to do here, Kim. Something important. Whatever the reason, Robin will get back here, just like I'll find my way back _there_." Time had messed up, Alex was certain of that. She just had to find a way to help it untangle itself. Her immediate priorities were to make sure Kim had a proper meal at last, get her to admit she needed sleep, put her to bed and spend some quality time with her flipchart. "Now, listen. I know that it's been a difficult day but now you're out of hospital you've got to get your strength back. That means sleeping and eating."

"My favourite chef is laying in hospital in a coma," Kim said quietly, "I'd rather be with him than eat anything."

"I don't think Mini-Kim will agree with you on that one," said Alex, "I'm going to make you something, like it or not. What do you want?"

Kim hesitated. She really didn't have an appetite but she knew she had to be sensible. She sighed as she tried to think of any kind of food that didn't turn her stomach. Finally she bit her lip.

"Have we got any beans?" she asked innocently.

~xXx~

Arthur Layton paced up and down in his cell like a wild animal about to snap. He wanted for all the world to go to the hollow gap he'd found in his bedframe and extract from it the substances he'd hoarded so far, but he managed to resist. He knew that he didn't quite have enough. Not for his own personal taste. Not for his own needs. Not after years of pumping the stuff into his body and letting it control his highs and lows, his drives, his mind. He needed to acquire a little more and then he'd have his hit, his night to end all nights. He couldn't wait for that moment, but for now he was _just_ about managing to hold back his urge.

It wasn't just the desperation for the drugs that was driving him crazy but his whole situation. The closer his trial came, the angrier he found himself about his predicament. Of course he'd done plenty to warrant it. He'd caused so much misery throughout his life in various ways. The charges he faced for blackmail and bribery, for shooting Alex Drake in the head and for attempting to extort money from a beard model were all well deserved. He couldn't argue with that.

But there were other charges. Unfair allegations. Things he couldn't possibly have done.

He remembered the car accident. He remembered driving at speed from the confrontation upon the roof. He remembered how lucky he'd been that Evan had left his car open and the keys sat in the ignition. He also remembered how it felt when he saw an animal run out onto the road and instinctively put his foot down on the brake, only for nothing to happen. He remembered swerving, spinning, running out of control until finally the crash, the crash that sent him into a coma. He lost time; weeks, _months_ even and woke to find intense security around him and a whole new set of charges he had no memory of.

An interloper had borrowed his body for a joyride in the meanwhile. But Layton wasn't to know that. He wasn't to know that for a while he'd shared his crumbling body with an interloper who held even more evil within his soul than Layton did himself. Now he found himself charged with things that he couldn't imagine ever doing – kidnap, abduction of a minor, attempted rape, GBH, ABH and even manslaughter.

Layton knew his limits. There were some things he just wouldn't – or couldn't – do.

But there were witnesses. Many witnesses. There was CCTV footage. There was evidence coming out of every orifice of the situation and even Layton couldn't argue when he saw himself on the security footage, committing various acts that he had no memory of.

The first glimmer of hope for him had come that afternoon when his lawyer visited him with news.

"One of the key witnesses in your trial, Police Chief Inspector Robin Thomas, was shot in a raid on a jewellery shop last weekend and he's in a critical condition. It is highly unlikely that – _if_ he survives – he will be able to give evidence at your trial. The doctors aren't even rating his chances at regaining consciousness very highly."

That had been the first piece of good news Layton had been given in months. When coupled with the fact that another main witness, Kim Stringer, had also been injured and would be a far weaker witness than previously thought things were finally looking up, despite the fact that the recently recovered Alex Drake would be giving evidence about her shooting. at least he knew he'd _done_ that. He could get on board with being charged for crimes he was guilty of. It was the ones that he could never have done that angered him.

But even so, the good news was too little, too late. An already disturbed mind had been slowly twisted and tortured by accusations that made no sense and made him want to hide forever. As the wild pacing continued anyone could see that he was close to snapping. Anyone, except for Arthur Layton.

~xXx~

Kim struggled through half a plateful of beans on toast before she tried to push the tray away.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, I'm just not hungry," she protested, her anxiety about Robin's first night in Fenchurch General making her feel sick.

"Come on Kim, the whole of _London_ knows when you're hungry," sighed Alex, "your stomach could rumble for Fenchurch. Just try to eat a bit more."

"Maybe the beans weren't such good idea," Kim mumbled, every bite reminding her of the person who was conspicuous by his absence. Out of the corner of her eye a picture on the TV caught her attention and her eyes widened, "Shit, Ma'am, look, it's _Evan!"_ with a fork flailing in the air she asked, "can you turn it up?"

They hadn't really been watching the news; it had just been on in the background in an attempt to distract them from more serious thoughts and worries, but it hadn't worked. However, the cheesy – and deceptively disembodied – image of Evan's head had certainly caught their attention.

"What's going on?" Alex shuddered as she turned the sound up.

"…_in other news, support is mounting for Beard Relief,"_ the newsreader told his audience, "_…the one-off television charity spectacular being held to bring funding and support for former beard model Evan White. Mister White was a respected solicitor and an admired beard model until a couple of minor misdemeanours saw him sent to prison and clean-shaven every day. It is now thought that the compulsory shaving – despite a being a traditional punishment for shamed beard models – is a breach of his human rights and the event is to be held to raise funds to take his plight further…"_

"A traditional punishment for _beard_ models?" Kim swallowed hard to prevent her dinner making a fast escape, "how many of the damn things are there?"

"I have no idea," even Alex was looking green around the gills, "honestly, Kim, before I was shot Evan concentrated on law and law alone. The beard model career was as much as a shock to me as anyone."

"_Beard relief – also dubbed Evan In Need – will be a seven hour live television extravaganza,"_ the newsreader continued, _"and will feature fellow beard supporters such as Noel Edmonds, ZZ Top and the surviving members of the BeeGees adding their voices to those supporting Evan's Right to Facial Hair. Plastic beards, rivalling sales of Red Noses for Comic Relief, have been flying off the shelves of stores and supermarkets countrywide –"_

"I think that's enough of that," Alex shuddered, switching off the TV as incredibly creepy images of members of the public in plastic facial hair – as well as one extremely large beard placed on the front of a car - graced the screen.

Kim pushed her tray away and curled up into a ball.

"Well that's _that_ then," she said, "not only am I not eating any more of this but I'm not eating again, ever."

Alex had to agree.

"I understand," she said, "I have a feeling food sales will be falling dramatically until the event is over."

"All the more money to buy fake beards with, I suppose," Kim commented, gagging slightly.

~xXx~

It had taken a while for Alex to convince Kim to go to bed.

First of all, Kim hadn't wanted to go because she didn't want to be alone in the bed she shared with Robin. _Then_ Kim had refused because she was terrified of having nightmares about Evan. But finally when her eyelids wouldn't stay open Alex had ordered her off to bed and no sooner had her head hit the pillow than she was asleep and dreaming.

Alex retired to her own room, sighing again as she saw the boxes. Now she would have to unpack them to find her bedclothes and anything else she needed. There was one thing still out though – the pen that sat beside the flipchart.

She lifted it and removed the lid. _Home_, it said in the middle of the paper.

She knew she had to get there. Her first try had failed, but she wasn't going to give up. Around the board she added a few words; threads of ideas she needed to focus on.

_Fiat – Gene – newspaper – drugs?_

_Manchester – plan failed? – Hayley – Gene plaque_

_Robin – needs to wake up – what does he need to do over there?_

_Kim – job to do here? – Something important?_

_Evan – Beard – Scary – Need to ban beard related telethon?_

For now, that was as much as she had, but even writing those words felt like a start.

"This is phase two, Gene," she said quietly, "I might be late, but I'll be back. Just hold on."

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Thank you so much for the lovely messages and good wishes – they are much appreciated :) So far so good, we're all doing well and Kimberley has fitted into the family as though she's always been here! While I'm still in a slight state of shock about the way she arrived I am just so glad that she arrived safely, even if she did it on her own schedule! :D Thank you again for all your kind thoughts x x x**_


	14. Chapter 12: Tomorrow Never Dies

_**A/N: I'm sorry if the next few chapters are quite short, I'm having some complications with my recovery and I can't type for long at the moment. Still fired up for writing though so I'll just write what I can, when I can for now x**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter Twelve**

Robin couldn't take his eyes from the humiliating, violent and slightly bararic initiation the new recruits were going through outside.

"Am I hallucinating or did he actually shove that pencil up that guy's nose?" he shuddered.

Simon had seen it all before. He barely noticed the trauma Gene was inflicting on the small gathering, more interested in asking Robin about something he'd said earlier.

"So they finally caught Nailer _out there?"_ he asked.

"Hmm?" Robin flinched as he witnessed another novel use for stationery, _"ouch –"_

"You said something about an undercover operation?" Simon pressed.

Robin finally stopped watching the commotion outside and turned to Simon.

"Yeah," he said, feeling slightly sad about the whole situation. "It wasn't an incredible success if you ask me."

"But they got Nailer behind bars, didn't they?"

"At some cost," Robin shook his head slowly, "it was more like a honey-trap than an undercover operation, Simon. They sent in a glamorous DI to charm his pants off,. Literally if Nailer's to be believed. But she took the role too far and got into the dark side of his world. She got addicted, quickly by the sound of it, and soon she wasn't getting all the drugs she needed from Nailer. She started to look elsewhere and –" he shook his head again, "must have been really desperate to go to Layton. Nailer found her, dead. He called for an ambulance, gave himself away, found himself finally on the inside of a cell."

"What did he expect after decades on the run?" said Simon.

"That's not the point," Robin aid quietly, "he was genuinely in love with the woman. He tried to get her help rather than keep his freedom. I heard he had some kind of panic attack when they told him she was just an undercover detective. He ended up in hospital. He didn't deserve that."

"You sound like he's on your Christmas card list," Simon frowned.

Robin shook his head.

"No, he's just not quite the monster everyone makes him out to be," he said. He shrugged. "And the man talks a lot of sense."

"The _'man'_ has a drug addled _brain,_ " Simon told him.

Robin shook his head.

"He actually seemed pretty level-headed," he said, "I got the feeling he'd never really been into overusing his own substances."

"At what point did you become bosom buddies with Nick Nailer?" Simon cried, "he shot your fucking _dog!"_

Robin rubbed his temples. He was getting a headache and this was getting him nowhere.

"I'm perfectly well aware of what he did," he snapped, "but you know, sometimes things aren't black and white." Robin couldn't explain to Simon, nor did he want to, that his kidnap at the hands of Nailer had been a fairly surreal experience. The man he met wasn't the cocky, headstrong Nailer of the nineties; he was a man of the world who'd seen enough – maybe a little too much – and learned a lot of hard lessons. In fact, Nailer's advice about grasping chances and living life had given Robin the courage to pursue his relationship with Kim. And, he had even apologised for shooting Cassandra.

Simon was about to launch into another round of questions when the door of the office flew open and an angry, ranting gene blustered in like an heard of bison.

"What is it that goes so badly bloody wrong fifteen years down the line?" he demanded, "why are all you two thousand and bollocks coppers such a puny collection of weeds, wimps and wet-pants?"

Robin was torn between amusement at Gene's rant and offence about everyone being lumped in under one label.

"I think that's a bit of a bloody generalisation," he frowned but Gene was on a roll.

"It's women's lib, isn't it?" he demanded, "the bloody contraceptive bloody pill. All that estrogen in the water supply. Turned everyone into a generation of nail-shaping, eyebrow-plucking, leg waxing tosspot posers."

Simon slowly covered his face with his palm. He'd seen this happen before. He'd been there long enough to know the tirade that followed when a bunch of new recruits joined the station. But this was a little different to usual. He found himself torn between trying to muffle the harshness of Gene's words from Robin, worried about him coming into contact with such a tirade already and feeling a sudden embarrassment of realising that the rabid man ranting before them actually gave him half of his DNA. This was the time paradox equivalent of watching your dad dancing at a wedding.

"Oh _god," _he groaned.

"Not _everyone's_ like that!" Robin tried to argue, "maybe it seems that way because you only get to meet the ones with the deep-rooted issues!"

"That explains why _you're_ back," Gene mumbled.

Simon didn't like where this was going. Since he didn't think the floor was going to comply with his wishes and swallow him up whole he decided to try distracting Gene with a question instead.

"I thought you were only supposed to get two new recruits," he said.

"You an' me both, Shoebury," Gene frantically looked for their paperwork on his desk, "problem is, someone's got to pick up the slack from Bolly's department now it's gone down the crapper. They doubled me ration of weirdos. "

"Shit, sorry," Simon said quietly, just thanking his lucky stars that none of them came under his remit. He peered out of the door. There didn't seem to be anything _wrong_ with the new recruits, nothing to live up to Gene's rant anyway. Yes, they were in real 90s fashion; there was indeed a strong boy-band appearance to one of them and another had shoes that would even give the Spice Girls vertigo but it was nothing Gene hadn't seen before. The presence of an interloper confused him though. "Why is Eddie in CID?" he asked.

"Because he caught the scent of fresh meat and came after them like one of Batman's sniffer dogs," Gene told him. Sure enough Eddie was focusing all his efforts on appearing as humanly charming as possible to a young detective whose 90s makeover had clearly been lifted straight from a poster of Mel B.

"At least he looks happy," Simon commented, "that's the first time I've seen him smile in about eight months."

"Don't think that's going to be lasting for long," Gene informed him as the expression of the Mel B lookalike darkened and she stamped on his foot with shoes that must have weighed at least as much as a desk. As Eddie hopped around the room, howling and clutching his toes, Simon found himself covering his face with his palm once again.

"Great. That's just great. A hopping, miserable Eddie moping around the office is just what I need this afternoon."

"You'll be busy this afternoon," Gene told him abruptly, "it's time to revise _The Life and Times of Arthur Layton,_ chapters one to thirty five." He looked out of the doorway at the newbies, "and don't let the new blood get whiff of what you're doing. As much as I'm sure they'd _love_ an introduction to the greasiest-haired dealer this side of thee continent I don't think they're going to appreciate the importance of catching the bugger or enjoy the time travel discussions I can practically hear oozing out yer science fiction noodles."

Simon hesitated.

"Are they all dead?" he asked, "or are any of them –"

"Floaters?" Gene shook his head, "No, they're all enjoying the decorative delights of an all-wood dwelling, six feet under."

"Do you have to put it that way?" Simon frowned.

"Do you have to call us _floaters?"_ Robin added, offended by the comparison to something found in the toilet bowl.

"Fine, fully paid-up members of the coma club then," said Gene.

"Are we going to get an introduction then?" Simon asked.

"For the foreseeable future they're going to be otherwise occupied being introduced to filing cabinets and attending a crash course in how not to impress your DCI by looking like a reject from Top of the Pops." He grabbed a set of keys from his drawer and threw them at a shocked Simon who fumbled for them in the air and barely caught them. "In the meanwhile you're both going to be busy finding out what our dear friend Mister Layton has been doing for the last ten years."

"What are these for?" Simon held up the keys.

"Dig out everything you can find from the files," Gene told him, "if that greaseball touched it, I want you reading about it. I want a full and unabridged account of his recent history; who he's pissed off, who he's been working for, what he's been shoving in his veins." He walked to the door. "Free ice cream for anyone who digs up anything connecting him with Nailer. We know about the bomb, but there's a ninety-nine in it for anyone who can dig up a deeper connection."

"With a flake?" Robin asked before he realised how stupid his request was.

"And a vat of bloody sprinkles," said Gene before he disappeared, heading off to insult his new recruits a little more.

Simon and Robin glanced at each other, neither really knowing what to say.

"He seems to be getting back some…" Robin began eventually.

"Rudeness?" Simon suggested, "violent tendancies?"

"I was just going to say 'bite' but those work too," Robin said a little nervously as a metallic clank made them both flinch.

"It's a _double drawer slam,"_ Simon observed Gene as one of the new recruits met he furniture, "I haven't seen him do one of those since Alex vanished." He paused and jangled the keys absently, "This Layton thing has got him all fired up. It's the closest he's come to believing that Alex is going to find her way back."

It was true – it had. For the first time Gene actually had something to work towards. Between his messages from Alex and both Layton and Nailer filling the papers he'd found his first glimmer of hope, small as it seemed, and the fire was back in his belly. Whatever part Layton would play in her return to 1997, Alex was coming back one way or another – and so was the bite of the Manc Lion.

_#...Darling I'm killed_

_I'm in a puddle on the floor_

_Waiting for you to return_

_Oh what a thrill_

_Fascinations galore_

_How you tease_

_How you leave me to burn_

_It's so deadly my dear_

_The power of having you near_

_Until the day_

_Until the world falls away_

_Until you say there'll be no more goodbyes_

_I see it in your eyes_

_Tomorrow never dies_

_Darling you've won_

_It's no fun_

_Martinis, girls, and guns_

_It's murder on our love affair_

_But you bet your life_

_Every night_

_While you chase in the morning light_

_You're not the only spy out there_

_It's so deadly my dear_

_The power of wanting you near_

_Until the day_

_Until the world falls away_

_Until you say there'll be no more goodbyes_

_I see it in your eyes_

_Tomorrow Never Dies..._

_Until the day_

_Until the world falls away_

_Until you say there'll be no more goodbyes_

_See it in your eyes...#_

_~ Tomorrow Never Dies - Sheryl Crow_

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Oh ewwwwwww, I made a horrible typo near the end and when I was editing it I realised I'd put 'that Layton THONG'! Ugh… well, yes, I am sure they will be all the fashion on the beach this summer…. Excuse me, I think I need a course of therapy now :-/**_


	15. Chapter 13: Who Do You Think You Are?

_**A/N: Think I'm finally making some progress and can at least sit to type again for short periods so I'm hoping to start catching up on replies to review, emails etc very soon, thank you for your patience and for continuing to read :) **_

_**BIG IMPORTANT A/N at the end of this chapter – help me decide how to celebrate the second anniversary of the end of A2A and the death of my decade of writer's block! :D**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter Thirteen**

**2012**

The passing of days was a strange thing for Alex to experience. Since getting back to London the tables had been turned completely, with Kim as the ailing party who needed - as much as she protested against it – a lot of assistance and a bit of mothering as she tried to recover from her injuries and come to terms with all that she'd been through. Now not only was Alex trying to find her way home but Kim was desperate to find a way to bring Robin back from the other side.

To a degree, Alex felt like she was just going through the motions; her daily routine comprised of many things that she tried to distance herself from for her own sanity – texts from Molly, hospital check-ups – all she wanted was for the outside world to leave her alone so she could retreat into her little bubble with her flip chat.

She'd made some progress. Her brainstorm had expanded over the last few days and the sheet of paper had become increasingly full. She'd pinned the drugs story from the 1997 newspaper to the board to give her a focus for the next stage of her plan and she'd also drawn a rather unflattering caricature of Arthur Layton, bizarrely appearing to wear some kind of thong, alongside it.

Kim had been spending as much time as possible in hospital by Robin's side, leaving only when she was forced out for her own good. There wasn't a member of staff in Fenchurch General that hadn't received at least one rude gesture from her. While her ribs were slowly heeling and her bruises were fading the shock of everything she'd been through had left a wound that was taking time to heal. She had nightmares night after might, replaying the gunshot; dreaming of Robin, so lost and far away from home, waking in tears with a dark feeling in her chest.

Whether it was psychological now that show knew about her pregnancy or the fact that Robin was no longer there to suffer her symptoms for her she'd found herself slowly experiencing more and more of them. Although she tried to keep them hidden, more through embarrassment than anything, Alex noted quite fondly that she wasn't the only one spending half the night going back and forth to the toilet now, and had watched Kim dwelling a little longer than necessary outside of toy and children's clothes shops. It was just the air of sadness that accompanied it as Kim wished every time that Robin was there to share it with her that brought Alex back to earth.

Evening was heading towards night and Kim sat staring at the TV, not really watching the news. She played absently with the ring on her finger, the connection that kept Robin close to her. She almost dropped it in horror though as a floating beard icon appeared in the corner of the screen.

"_And support for Beard Relief is hotting up,"_ the newsreader said brightly, _"with more celebrities backing the cause every day. Evan White is said to be 'touched and thrilled' while his beard is said to be 'overwrought with emotion.'"_

"Oh god," Kim groaned, pulling her knees up towards her as though to protect herself from beard cooties, "this Evan thing isn't going away, is it?"

"No, it's not," Alex shuddered. She felt guilty for that. She felt as though she should really be supporting him but not only had her view of Evan been forever tainted by the facts she now knew but the concept of Beard Relief brought on a severe bout of nausea that nothing could repel. The level of revulsion was only one step away from rivalling the fishy biscuits.

**~xXx~**

**1997**

"Is this dust or –" Robin sneezed, "- something less legal?"

Since they were Layton's files it was impossible to be sure.

"I'm hoping it's just dust, otherwise the words are going to start dancing on the page in a minute," said Simon. He paused for a moment to look up at Robin whose whole focus was on the paper in front of him. He was reading intently, as determined to find out what Layton's connection to helping Alex home was as Gene had been. In his mind, if there had been a mix-up and he was there in Alex's place then surely helping her home would bring him back to 2012.

It felt extremely strange to Simon; sitting there, poring through files with Robin, so reminiscent of days when they'd sit round in the kitchen talking over cases from work, or just reading the paper together. And yet everything was different now. Things couldn't have been _more_ different, in fact. It still felt incredibly strange to be with him again after so long of hoping and praying that Robin would cross his path, and yet it wasn't at all the way he'd dreamed it would be. To be together without being 'together' hurt. It really stung inside.

"Is there anything this guy _hasn't_ been mixed up with?" Robin asked as he turned the page, "I mean, his name just keeps appearing. It's like he's the criminal underworld's odd-job man. Never found his feet again himself so he's spent years trying to get in with the big boys and work his way back up that way. He's determined to get back into the whole scene but it looks like every time he tries it all goes wrong. Seems no one wants a snivelling little rat hanging around."

Simon tried to stop focusing on Robin and focus on the job at hand instead. He laid one file on the desk and turned it a little for Robin to see.

"He's cropped up a few times in the files on Nailer," he said, "looks like he was low down on Nailer's chain of dealers, almost off the radar. Looks like Nailer tried to cut him out. His services were good enough to build a bomb but when it came to the actual goods Nailer didn't want him anywhere nearby,."

"Can't blame him either," said Robin. He sighed deeply, shaking his head. "Shit, I can see a real pattern emerging here."

"You man the pattern of a looser?" Simon commented.

"Last year when Alex needed help we took a bunch of files," said Robin, "we found out the truth behind why he shot her. It was Evan… Layton had been blackmailing him for money."

Simon hadn't heard about this. He hadn't heard any of this before. The last he knew of Evan had been as the charming and gracious man who had befriended him gratefully after he saved Alex from Keats in her hospital room.

"Why… _how_….. was Layton blackmailing Evan?" he asked, his eyes wide in shock.

"Evan's not quite the gentleman we thought he was," Robin told him, feeling awkward at having to break the news, "Simon, there's so much you missed out on. So much you don't know. Layton had this blackmail list… all the people he'd ever 'helped'. All the people he could dish the dirt on. It was more than _just_ a blackmail list too. Layton had really lost the plot, bogged down with guilt about all the things he'd done. Every time someone paid him the money he demanded he treated it as an acceptance of blame, exonerating him from all guilt."

"Shit," Simon sighed.

"Layton needed the money because he'd got himself in trouble, trying to rebuild his empire. But he set up on someone else's patch and soon they were chasing him for money as 'compensation'. He got more and more desperate. He thought his luck was in when he came to Evan because the idiot paid up twice but when Layton went back for a third helping Evan couldn't afford it. It had become about more than money by now though."

Simon felt his spirits sinking. He felt as though he barely knew Evan after all.

"What was he blackmailing Evan about?" he whispered.

"Evan…" Robin closed his eyes and sighed, "he had an affair with Alex's mother."

Instantly Simon's whole expression darkened, his hatred of infidelity casting a shadow over the rest of the conversation.

"He what?" he hisses.

"that's not the worst of it," Robin tried to remember as much as he could about the grand reveal, up on the roof of the Falcon Building almost a year ago, "Alex's father was so devastated by it that he really lost the plot. He planned to… to kill himself, and his wife and Alex too, so they would all be 'together' and Evan couldn't get between them, destroying their happiness." He found himself becoming almost tearful as he thought about it; the desperation of a broken man, the senseless loss of life, the thought of Alex growing up as an orphan. While his own situation was too different to draw direct parallels it certainly stirred up some dark emotions of his own. "To make sure that they all died together he asked someone to build and fit a car bomb."

"A bomb," Simon whispered the words. Robin didn't need to elaborate on the identity of the man who constructed it for him, "Shit… And Evan knew about Layton building the bomb?"

Robin nodded.

"So when he popped up demanding money Evan panicked," he began, "he'd kept the truth secret for years. Alex had no idea. He paid up to prevent Layton from telling her, then after he'd paid once and admitted 'guilt' Layton came back for more and he coughed up again. But when Layton asked for more than Evan had he finally grew tired of his blackmail and called his bluff. He didn't believe Layton would tell alex the truth and certainly didn't believe he had her at gunpoint."

"_Shit,"_ Simon shook his head slowly. It was a lot to take in.

"And all the blackmail… all the searching for blame, it all came from trying to mess with the big boys and getting his fingers burnt," Robin concluded quietly.

Simon hung his head.

"Exactly what he's doing now," he said quietly, "he's slowly taking over Nailer's business. And doing it very badly." He looked at Robin, the full implication of Layton's sudden connection with the tainted narcotics coupled with Nailer's escape hitting him hard. "Shit, it's history repeating itself before it's happened, isn't it?" he hissed, "and this time he's stepping on the biggest toes of the lot."

"He's bringing forward his future and making it unfold even more dangerously this time around." Robin felt a cold dread settling over him. "I guess we have something to tell Gene."

Simon nodded.

"Not the happiest news, is it?" he mumbled.

"It was never likely to be," sighed Robin. He peered through the door. "How do we know when he's finished with the new recruits so we can tell him what we've found so far?"

"You generally wait for the metal clanking to stop," said Simon.

Robin flinched.

"Good answer," he said.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

As another few long, difficult days passed Alex began to realise increasingly that Layton's upcoming trial was looking to be some kind of focal point for getting her home. Now only days away both she and Kim had been briefed by the lawyer for the prosecution that morning. It had been a difficult and uneasy meeting for both of them. Both had been on the receiving end of bullets from the man; Alex's in the head, Kim's in the neck, and the memories that the meeting stirred up were hard for them both to deal with. On top of that, they knew they were going to have to relive their own ordeals again in the courtroom just days later.

"He was the one who started all of this," Alex whispered as she stared at her increasingly full flip-chart, "maybe he's the one who needs to end it." She closed her eyes, "somehow."

Would getting the man put in prison somehow be her route home? To see him finally receive the punishment he was due? Maybe simply helping Gene find peace wasn't enough – maybe she needed to find peace for herself too. When Manchester hadn't been the key it was the only other possibility she could think of.

She nodded to herself as she switched off the light and left her room. She tried not to laugh at Kim who was looking slightly annoyed and awkward as she sat in the lounge in one of Robin's shirts; the result of a rude awakening as what she'd mistaken for a little extra holiday weight had turned rather abruptly into a noticeable bump almost overnight had left her feeling self-conscious and awkward. She had become the poster child for '_showing earlier when you've already had a baby'_ and with all her old maternity clothes now in use by Alex she'd been forced to raid Robin's wardrobe for something to hide the start of the bulge.

"Anything interesting on the TV?" Alex asked her, quickly rephrasing her question as, "anything that isn't related to beards?"

"Oh. Ma'am, _everything's_ related to beards now," Kim angrily switched off the TV, "Haven't you heard? If it's not got a beard in, it's been pulled from the schedules. They even pulled a repeat of Robot Wars because Razer was one of the competing robots and they thought that would be offensive to Evan."

Alex decided to change the subject. She felt a little nervous as she asked the question she didn't dare ask very often.

"Is there any news about Robin?" she asked quietly, "any change in his condition?"

She watched Kim's eyes turn downward as she shook her head.

"Not yet," she said quietly, "although he's stable there's been no improvement. They don't know why he hasn't regained consciousness but his heart stopped for some time so they're thinking there might be bran damage. They can't tell me f or sure what his chances are but that could definitely be better."

"He'll get back, Kim," Alex told her.

"If he even wants to," Kim said quietly. She still couldn't shake that fear; that Robin had made the choice and wanted to stay where he was. Alex shook her head. Somehow she just didn't believe that was the case.

"We'll both find or way back to the right side of the line," she said, "don't lose faith, Kim."

As hard as she tried not to it was difficult for Kim to stay hopeful. Now that so much time had passed she was starting to feel that there was no way back for him. He needed to find the escape route soon if he was ever going to make it. Kim felt scared to admit how much she needed him. She'd never needed anyone before in her life but meeting Robin had been like finding a missing part of herself. He had to come back, for both their sakes.

**~xXx~**

**1997**

"Where's Stone?"

The whole of Fenchurch West CID found themselves on _Angry Keats Alert_ at the sound of his voice booming in bitterness. He didn't need an excuse to be angry and pissed off with Victoria but the fact that she was two hours late for work was a fairly decent one nonetheless. He stared at her empty desk as he heard the rest of the department mutter apologies for not knowing her whereabouts. He knew the previous day had been her day off but she should have been back that morning. Her absence was more than unusual. She usually had very high standards in her work – her timekeeping and efficiency both excellent, so for her to fail to show was a mysterious turn of events indeed.

"Someone get her on the phone, find out what kind of time zone she thinks she's in and get an ETA on when we're likely to see her."

The slamming of his office door signified that he'd passed that particular duty to the rest of his department and did not wish to be disturbed. He drew the shutters over his office door and began to pace. There was anger and bile burning inside of him. He was starting to have difficulty controlling it. Ever since Robin had entered the world and Gene's fire had started to return there had been an abundance of dark energy created to balance out the good and the strength that they exuded, which Keats had lapped up like a cat confronted with a big bowl of cream. But after months with a lower level of energy to absorb he was struggling to keep it contained. He'd never had that problem before. For the first time he was actually scaring himself.

He tried to pace off some of his dark energy. The news that Nailer had escaped from prison hadn't exactly been the best start to his morning and coupled with the non-arrival of his _DI-slash-verbal-punch-bag_ the blackness that swirled around him like a cloak was growing ever darker.

He tried to keep a lid on the explosive anger that he felt brewing but knew that wouldn't last forever. He hoped that he could find an effective way to use the darkness before it grew too powerful to put to his advantage. Why he was finding it so difficult to handle, he could only hazard a guess. This was new and unsettling. A darker season was falling over Fenchurch West, and this time even Keats would find it difficult to handle.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

"_I have to be honest, Mister Layton, it isn't looking good."_

The lawyer's words ran around and around Layton's mind as he paced up and down in his cell night after night. He scratched at his arm anxiously as he felt the truth sinking in.

"_DI Drake has recovered her full memory following her coma. She's going to be a very strong witness. DI Stringer is also recovering from her recent accident and it sounds like she's going to be a difficult one to crack. The only weak witness who will be available for your trial is Evan White. Even the remains of his beard are said to have their story straight."_

As the days passed the fact that Robin was not going to be able to testify at the trial had become less and less important. The strength of the other witnesses had quickly overpowered the benefit that losing one would bring and Layton knew that he was going down for the things he _hadn't_ done as well as those he _had_.

Every piece of information passed from his legal team brought him darker news and less chance of ever seeing freedom again. Night after night they grew to a crescendo in his mind until eventually that night it bubbled over and he could take no more.

It was time to ease the pain. Time to raid the stash. Finally he'd collected what he needed. He had everything, right there, ready and waiting for him. The needle felt like a long lost lover as he spun it around in his fingertips and the anticipation of that first hit after so long brought a wild excitement to his soul. He'd waited _so_ long for this. He'd been patient. He had missed that exquisite sensation, the explosion of bliss, the sensation that would make the rest of the world disappear as all that mattered was him and his high.

And there it was.

**X**

It was his cellmate who hit the alarm at the sound of choking; a line of vomit running from his lips and pooling on the bed, his heart overtaxed by a substance that he was no longer used to surging through his veins.

With blue lights blazing and sirens wailing, Layton's journey to hospital began.

It was the start of a journey for somebody else too.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Guess what's coming up soon? The second anniversary of two things – the end of A2A and the end of ten years of writer's block that led to me starting my first A2A fic. Clearly I've never looked back! So, May 21**__**st**__** is the anniversary of A2A ending, May 22**__**nd**__** is the anniversary of me feeling so moved by the end of the series that I needed to start writing and May 23**__**rd**__** is the anniversary of writing the first chapter of Out of the Window which at the time was a one-shot. I can't believe how much I've written in the last 2 years, nor how fired up I still am about it. I finally have back the passion I used to have for writing, back when I was in my late teens, thanks to Ashes to Ashes :)**_

_**I really want to do something to mark both – the anniversary of the end of A2A and two years since my muse escaped from whatever cell he'd been locked away in. I have hit upon the idea of writing one or two missing/deleted scenes from past fics; scenes that either I'd planned to write at the time but changed my mind because they didn't fit as well with the story progression or things that I'd thought would be fun to expand on in their own right. I'm going to write at least one, hopefully 2 and post over those 3 days and I'd love some help choosing which to pick…**_

_**I've posted a poll on my profile – you can choose up to 3 and the couple of scenes with the most votes in a week or so will be the chosen ones. These are the possibilities I've come up with:**_

**Out of the Window:** There was a point at which a lot of the readers expected Galex smut in the next chapter, but not only did I want to keep the rating a T but I am really not a Galex shipper and hadn't planned on writing anything explicit. I had said at the time I'd write it as a 'deleted scene', and I did try but just couldn't. However, I'm willing to give it another go so the first option is the missing Galex smut scene following chapter 20 of OotW

**Strangers When We Meet:** I had originally planned to write a trilogy with _Strangers _being the last of the three and the original ending I had planned was very different before I had the split soul/two Alexes (Alexs? Alexii?) idea halfway through. I don't think I ever revealed how the story was originally planned to end. Option two is the original (and morbidly depressing!) ending to _Strangers!_

**Whispering Her Name:** Two ideas from this one: First of all, there's a throwaway line where 1995 Kim wakes up after being shot and alludes to the fact that she thought she'd 'gone home'. This was always something I wanted to explore fully one day, so this is one possible scene.

**Also in Whispering**, In the epilogue Robin, Kim and Kelly were all unfortunate enough to sit down for pizza just as _Dispatches: Evan White: Where Did It All Go Wrong? _started. I had always kind of wanted to write a chunk of the programme, just like I did with the Jim Keats 'Dispatches' episode. _Warning: Will contain beards_

**Something Changed:** Because I wanted to keep the rating as a T I left out a scene I'd have loved to write about the night Kim took Shaz back to Simon's couch, but I'd still love to write it now. What would that be called anyway? Kaz? Shim?

**Chasing Rainbows:** I had originally planned to write Kim's fake funeral which was going to be somewhat disastrous and humorous but it didn't really fit with the tone of the rest of the story so I decided not to. This is another scene I'd still like to write.

**Strange & Beautiful:** This wasn't an A2A fic but was one of the stories I wrote on Fictionpress featuring Kim and Robin. Once again _Dispatches_ gets in on the act as the pair try to avoid watching _DI March: Where Did It All Go Wrong?_ I would love to write chunk of the episode to reveal exactly what happened with the Nick Nailer cut-out, an HD video, 800,000 hits on YouTube and the incident going viral…

**Eyes of Blue:** It has to be done. It really has to be done. A full incident report of one of the many instances of Toastercide needs to happen.

So those are the choices – I'm going to open the poll for a week or so and you can make three choices. Blind poll so that it will be a surprise which scene(s) come out on top. Please vote and help me mark 2 years since the doors to the Railway Arms closed on Alex, Ray, Chris and Shaz – and on my writer's block, evil little dude he was too! x


	16. Chapter 14: Indestructible

_**A/N: Don't forget to vote in my poll on my profile page! There's a full explanation of the 8 choices at the end of the previous chapter. I'd love as many votes as possible to help me decide which to write**__** :)**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter Fourteen**

**2012**

Night-time brought nightmares; it was simply a matter of fact. Usually it was the same images again and again, memories of Manchester; the gunshot, the car, Robin's still and injured body in hospital and his soul lost and alone. But this time another nightmare joined it on rotation; a nightmare born from the memories of another gunshot fired almost a year ago from the twisted man with junk in his veins. Whether it had been the recent meetings for Layton's trial that had stirred things up for her, Kim didn't know, but the dreams she found herself at the mercy of that night replayed the shot that buried itself in her neck after passing straight through Robin as though he wasn't even there.

It was a nightmare she used to suffer repeatedly. In the aftermath of her shooting, the car crash and Alex returning to a coma the year before she had been plagued by replays in her dreams, the moment that the bullet passed right through Robin as though her was translucent. That was the start – the first instance of knowing that there was something different about Robin, that he wasn't entirely a part of the real world any more.

Over and over the scene played in a loop; the bullet that struck her, meant for someone else whose level of reality seemed to fade at that precise moment. The images brought sweat to her brow and a scream to the edge of her tongue until she could take no more.

And then, on the final go around, it was different.

Something changed.

**~xXx~**

**1997**

He had become used to nightmares in the short time they'd been apart, split by worlds. They were haunted by the sound of the squealing tyres he'd heard as he lay in the jewellery store, his life ebbing away, now knowing what the car had struck; the sound of her voice begging him to come back to her, scenes from the TV screen from the message that had found its way to him one night not long ago. They all haunted him, and once again they played through his mind.

_Robin –_

But this time there was something different. Snippets of scenes he didn't know filtered through between them. She was running, her legs were taking her at a frantic pace across an open expanse of land. Where was she heading? Why was her face so full of fear and torture, her eyes laden with pain?

_Alright, page Doctor Masters and tell him that –_

_Beeeeeeeeeeeeep - -_

What was she running to as she stopped dead in her tracks and dropped over a heap of… of something, clothes or – could have been some kind of giant rag doll. Was it a body?

_Need the crash team in here. Now!_

The sobbing – the wild, distraught sobs that could have edged into a scream of despair at any moment. They churned Robin up inside. Oh _god_, what was he even seeing? What was she going through? What –

_Clear –_

**~xXx~**

**2012**

The last time around and something was different. She hadn't expected it. So often had she relived the nightmare that she knew it off by heart, beat for beat, second for second like stage directions in a screenplay, but out of the blue the most fundamental part of the nightmare had changed. Suddenly the moment was different. The action altered. The second that changed all their lives was erased and re-written.

Layton turned, the gun clutched tightly in his hand. One finger squeezed the trigger and the damn bullet launched through the air once again. As always, Kim braced herself for the pain; the same pain she felt every time the dream replayed, but this time it wasn't to be.

The bullet never made it that far.

**~xXx~**

**1997**

He tried to fight his way towards the image of Kim, to find out what was happening, ignoring the strange voices that seemed to float in the air without ever truly making themselves heard to him. He pushed forward, running against the air, but no matter how hard his legs fought to take him forward he never seemed to get anywhere.

That was where the dream changed and morphed, twisted around on itself and a new image took its place. A familiar image… a moment that he'd lived through almost a year ago when his feet took him forward in pursuit of a man; a man whose name had suddenly come to the fore again.

He could see the inside of the falcon Building so clearly, he felt the urgency as Layton tried to make his getaway and heard the sound of the bullet as he fired it at Robin.

_He's back… we've got him back…_

But unlike before the bullet didn't pass through him and sink into the flesh of Kim's neck. This time it was Robin who felt the pain, Robin who took the shot, Robin whose skull was hit by the bullet and whose blood spilled as he dropped to the floor.

He tried to scream. This wasn't how it went. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

His nightmare had other ideas.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

She watched as the bullet struck him. For the first time ever in her dream he was solid and tangible and the bullet couldn't pass through the bone of his skull as it struck its intended victim finally. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as the dream showed how things could have unfolded if only another world hadn't been laying its first claims to a man it now had in its grasp.

His body fell.

His blood pooled around him on the floor.

And she screamed.

She screamed and sobbed and cried her heart out as she stared at his lifeless face, the bullet embedded in his head and the last breath leaving his body.

As the scream transcended dream to reality and she awoke in her bed, her body rising in desperation and her throat raw from her terrified cries, she felt her heart beating so hard that she wasn't sure she could survive the fear from the images she'd just seen.

"_No,"_ she cried, her words broken by sobbing., "_No, Rob –"_

She heard footsteps in the hallway. Alex flew through the doorway, her expression full of concern.

"Kim, what's the matter?" she cried.

Kim turned to her, eyes wide with fear. She didn't know how to explain it; how the dream had affected her so deeply, how changing one element had brought her such a cold sense of fear. She found herself panting, just trying to get a little oxygen back into her lungs before she was able to say;

"Nightmare… I just had a nightmare, Ma'am. I'm sorry…"

"It must have been a very nasty one," Alex gently sat on the side of her bed, "Kim, you're _sweating."_

"Shit," Kim crossly wiped her forehead with her sleeve and closed her eyes.

"What happened?" Alex asked gently, "Can you tell me? Do you _want_ to?"

Kim didn't know. She wasn't sure she wanted to relive it enough to explain. She swallowed and closed her eyes, breathing heavily all the while, then finally opened her mouth to tell Alex that it had been about Layton but the phone started to ring and caused an involuntary gasp from both of them. Coming out of the blue, the simple sound scared them both more than it should have done. Finally Kim gathered herself together enough to reach for the receiver by the bed.

"_Hello?"_ she said hesitantly. Alex tried to read her expression as it went through several different emotions before she finally started biting on her lip and swallowed hard. "Thank you," she whispered, "I'll be right there."

Alex stared at her expectantly as she cut the call. She gave a slight nod to encourage her to talk.

"Well?" she asked.

Kim breathed deeply and returned her line of sight to Alex.

"That was the hospital," she whispered, "there's been a change in Robin's condition."

**~xXx~**

**1997**

It had never gone like that before.

_Robin? Rob, for god's sake –_

He used to have that nightmare a lot. In the early days after the event he would relive it time and again at night, in shock at the thought of a bullet passing right through his flesh and bone. Then, when he and Kim fell in love he would sometimes relive the part where the bullet struck her instead and wake in a cold sweat before prodding and poking her sleeping form beside him until she swore at him and told him to go to sleep, settling his mind that she was safe now.

But in all the times he'd had the nightmare it had never gone like that.

_Robin, please – open your eyes. Oh fuck –_

He saw himself. He saw his body on the ground, the blood spilling and his heart stopping. He heard screams of anguish and watched Kim bending over him, grasping his body, her tears falling onto his skin.

_Robin!_

_Slap._

It had never happened like that before. It barely seemed real. How could it be real? That wasn't what happened. That wasn't –

"_Rob!"_

This time his eyes opened, the sound of someone yelling his name and the feeling of a hand striking the side of his face pulling him from the nightmare and dragging him back to consciousness. He was on the floor… what was he doing on the fucking _floor_? The underside of Gene's desk loomed large with wodges of chewing gum and graffiti about the various places that Gene and Alex had_ enjoyed themselves _scrawled in black biro.

"_Hmmmpff?"_ he mumbled, rolling his head a little from side to side as he tried to figure out what was going on. He blinked and focused on the face in front of him; Simon, looking haunted and desperate. His hand was already waiting in mid-air to administer another slap if necessary. "What…. Did you _slap_ me?" Robin accused as crossly as his present circumstances would allow but his words were slightly slurred and his voice quieter than he was anticipating.

"Robin, you were –" Simon seemed to hesitate as a pair of large boots that Robin could only assume belonged to Gene moved closer in a slightly threatening manner, "I mean, you just passed out… flaked out right on the floor…. What was I supposed to do?"

"H-how about a slightly less violent wake-up method?" Robin asked, reaching up to rub his stinging cheek, "like lopping off a few toes or something."

"I was bloody _terrified!"_ Simon cried.

Robin stared at him in absolute confusion, partly because he had no idea what had happened and partly because Simon's frantic expression seemed a little overboard for something as simple as passing out.

"I… I don't know what to say," he tried to push himself into a sitting position, "…sorry?"

He found himself hauled to his feet rather unceremoniously by Gene and pushed back into his chair.

"Stop overreacting, Shoebury, " he said, "if I'd been looking at mugshots of Layton I'm not sure I'd want to stay conscious either."

Simon stood up properly and stepped towards him.

"_Gene –"_ he hissed urgently but Gene cut him off.

"First three years here Drake used to spend half her life flat on the floor with some kind o' turn," he said firmly, "It happens."

"Gen, that was _not_ normal," Simon hissed through gritted teeth as anxious eyes flickered to Robin, "He faded –"

A killer glare from Gene silenced Simon before he could continue. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his flask which he threw to Robin.

"Here," he said, "this'll wake you up."

Robin reluctantly re moved the cap and sniffed the liquid within. He drew back a little and pulled a face.

"I told you I don't like scotch," he said.

"Not giving you bloody brandy," Gene told him, "you faint like a girl, you need a man's drink to balance it out." He stared at Robin as he looked back incredulously. "It's that or I take off me boots and use me socks as smelling salts," Gene told him.

Reluctantly Robin decided the drink was the lesser of two evils and took a swig, pulling a face as he did so..

"It's not like I did it on purpose," he mumbled. In fact, he didn't even remember passing out. He hadn't felt weak or dizzy, he didn't remember it happening at all. One second he'd been addressing Gene with what they'd found about Layton and the next he woke wth a stinging cheek.

"Back to the topic of everyone's least favourite sewer rat," Gene began, preparing to sit down but to his surprise and fury Simon grasped his sleeve and gave him an angry and surprisingly forceful tug towards the door and out into CID. He immediately regretted the action when he saw the look on Gene's face as he slammed the door and hissed, "Was all _that_ really a good idea, Shoebury?" grabbing Simon's sleeve to mimic his unwise action, albeit harder and more violently.

"Are you just going to ignore what happened in there?" Simon cried.

"Are _you_ going to carry on broadcasting it around the station or are you going to drop yer voice?" Gene hissed.

Simon pulled his sleeve away from Gene.

"Robin faded out," he hissed, "He bloody _disappeared."_

"I am aware of what happened," Gene hissed back, "believe it or not I still have me marbles and me eyesight."

"_Well?"_ Simon cried desperately, throwing his hands in the air.

"Well _what?"_ Gene cried.

"Well what does it mean?" Simon demanded.

Gene stared at him.

"You _know_ what it means, Simon," he said in slow, measured tones.

"It can't," Simon protested. He rubbed his forehead frantically, "you mean he's going to wake up? That he almost did?"

"Give that nerd a coconut," sighed Gene.

"_No,"_ Simon shook his head, "He's only been here a few days… he can't wake up."

"I don't think you've got much of a say in it, Shoebury," Gene said tightly.

"He's only just _come_ here!" Simon hissed, "he can't go back."

"Why not? Because _you_ don't _want_ him to? Because I can tell you, this place does not recognise it as a valid reason."

"I've just got him back," Simon's tone was almost desperate by now.

"No, Simon, you haven't _got him back," _Gene reminded him, "or did you forget that?"

"Of course I didn't," hissed Simon, "I'm not stupid."

"You're not putting forward a strong case for _Brain of the Year,"_ Gene pointed out, "I asked you this morning if you could work together and like an idiot I believed the _yes_ I got back for me troubles. "

"This has nothing to do with working together, I just want him to stay here, with me," Simon found himself spilling words without being able to rein them in. He immediately regretted it; this wasn't a conversation he should be having with _anyone_, least of all Gene who – with a lack of nearby filing cabinets – pushed him to the wall instead and hissed;

"What do you think I am? Bloody cupid? Because I'm telling you now Shoebury, instead of wings and arrows I've got cowboy boots and bags under me eyes from sleeping in the car. I _know_ you've been hard done by, Simon. _All's fair in love and war? _Bollocks to that. _Nothing's_ fair. If it was I wouldn't have to chase down the winner of the _Worst Dealer of the Year_ award from the last ten years running to get Bolly back, would I? Try to get this through yer head, Simon - he's moved on and you haven't. No, that's not fair. Can you change it? No bloody idea. Should you _try?_ Not if you've got a decent bone in your body."

Simon couldn't believe the lecture he was getting. With a shocked expression he cried,

"_Gene!"_

"You're one man on your own," Gene told him, "well, one man with a big bloody collection of nerd-o-rama. Have you forgotten what he's got to go back to? He's got a bloody kid on the way. That changes everything."

"Didn't change anything for _you_ twenty years ago, did it?" Simon hissed with a horribly spiteful tone and the moment the words left his mouth he regretted it. _Shit._ That wasn't good. He'd overstepped the mark, he was sure of that. _Shit, shit, shit. _The dark and angry look on Gene's face made him gulp and shudder, terrified that this time meeting the filing cabinet could only lead to certain death. _Death by office furniture._ What a way to go. He stared anxiously as Gene fixed him with a glare, too worried to even ramble an apology, but to his surprise despite Gene's clear anger at his words he spoke in a calm and defined manner, his voice kept low and his hands well away from throwing Simon against anything that may or may not have included drawers.

"I already told you we needed to talk that through, but this isn't the time," his eyes bore into Simon and left a large, steaming pile of guilt where they ate away at him, "when DCI Alex Drake is safely back in Fenchurch East, as well as back in me bed, you can sling every piece of mud at me that you can find. But until then all I care about is reeling in Layton and bringing that posh cow back home, where she belongs." His eyes flicked to the office door for a moment. "Now we're going back in there. _That man_ doesn't know what happened. He doesn't _need_ to either. Maybe he's going to wake up a few minutes from now, or maybe there's a group of babbling docs running around his bedside, telling each other he's not ready to open his eyes yet and he'll be here for a year, bugging me with his bloody girly taste in spirits and shunning the kind offer of scotch. Maybe he won't even wake up at all. But this isn't the time to investigate his chances. Get back in there, tell me the rest of Layton's life story and we'll pick this up again when I can actually give a damn about introducing yer backside to me office furniture."

He pushed open the door and stepped back for Simon to pass. Eaten up with guilt about his words and his selfish need to keep Robin in the world he hung his head. _What a mess_. What a fucking mess. Slowly he passed Gene and walked back into the office where he took a seat, not even glancing at Robin although he could feel his eyes turning his way.

"Are you OK?" Robin's voice was genuinely anxious but Simon still couldn't bring himself to look.

"I'm fine," he said quietly.

"Ignore Shoebury's existential crisis," Gene told him, reclaiming the flask. He frowned and shook it a little, glaring at Robin as he discovered he'd drained the damn thing dry. "Bloody hell, if you're not a scotch drinker then I'd hate to see what you'd have done with the brandy bottle."

"Sorry," Robin half mumbled, already regretting drinking so much. He could feel things spinning around him but it was preferable to seeing those images playing through his head again and again. "What's going on?" he asked, not completely sure he wanted to know.

"Shoebury had a bit of a panic," Gene said simply, "going to send 'im on a first aid course so that next time someone passes out he can do something more effective than slapping 'em and flapping his arms around like a bloody homosexual airplane."

Simon narrowed his eyes at Gene but the only comeback he could think of was;

"Aeroplanes don't '_flap'."_

Ignoring him completely, Gene wanted to get back to the matter in hand.

"Layton," He prompted.

Simon and Robin had already been halfway through telling him what they knew when Robin had blacked out across the floor. Gene didn't want to admit that Robin's strange turn and subsequent momentary disappearance from their version of reality had managed to get him more excited than he should have been, especially for Simon's sake. The fact was, Gene subscribed to the same theory as Robin; that he was there by mistake instead of Alex. Gene wanted to see Robin wake up. He wanted_ Batman_ to go back to the real world because that just might signify a swap was in place. If he went home, maybe Alex could pass in the other direction.

Robin tried to overcome both his nightmares and the scotch. He rubbed his forehead and tried to work out where they'd gotten up to.

"Layton…" he sighed, "yeah, the pattern. He's in this cycle; trying to take over other people's business, trying to get into their patch, passing himself off as part of the business when in fact he's just a big fat failure. It was getting onto someone else's patch that led to all the blackmail in the real world… Alex getting shot…"

Gene breathed out as his eyes scanned an open file.

"And this time he'd getting in ahead," he said.

Robin nodded.

"Nailer isn't arrested in the nineties back in the real world," he said, "so Layton never had a chance to try taking over. Here, he's seizing his opportunity."

"is there any news on Nailer?" Simon asked quietly, just feeling as though he should contribute something to the conversation, even though all he wanted to do was to leave the room and go for a very, very long walk to burn off some of his frustration and emotion.

"If by news you mean has anyone followed his trail of breadcrumbs and found him, then no," said Gene, "You'll be delighted to know Fenchurch West staked their claim to the case. Their argument went something like, the prison was about half an inch closer to them than to us. Must have been using '_little Jimbo'_ to measure that."

"So we're off the case before we're even on it?" cried Robin.

"Like I'm going to let Big _or_ Little Jimbo tell me what to do," Gene mumbled, "I've sent the new blood out to dig up what they can. Mel B and Ronan Keating have gone to HMP Fenchurch to find out exactly what happened to Nailer overnight, while Dimwit One and Dimwit Two have gone to look at some CCTV footage of a possible sighting of Nailer in the area."

"I thought we were keeping them out of the case?" asked Simon.

"We're keeping them away from anything involving Arthur Layton," Gene corrected, "there's no proof yet that Nailer's breakout is connected to his unwanted business takeover."

"_Yet,"_ Robin echoed.

Gene nodded and looked at Simon.

"If I can trust you two not to rip each other to pieces," he glanced over at Robin, _"or_ take another nap on me floor, I recommend one of you gets to the hospital to find out what you can about the tainted drugs and all the poor sods who went for the blue-lipped look when the shitty produce stuck a stick in their hearts.

"I'll do that," Simon said quietly as he stood up.

Gene looked at Robin.

"You need a lay down or you up for asking around on the streets?" he asked.

Robin got to his feet.

"I'm fine," he said

"You passed out," Simon pointed out.

"Do I look unconscious now?" Robin spread his palms, annoyed and embarrassed that the incident was still being mentioned.

"Good man," said Gene, "get a list of known dealing spots connected with the tainted stuff from uniform and find out what you can."

"What are you doing?" Simon asked,

Gene took a deep breath and looked away for a moment. He wasn't exactly sure himself. There was something he wanted to do… _needed_ to do even, but he wasn't sure how he was going to manage it or even if he _should_. Finally he pulled his jaw into a straight line and said,

"One other thing Bols asked me to do for her."

"What? Simon frowned.

Gene still hated talking like this. He hated being the one on the other side of the message. It made him feel like a class A weirdo. But he couldn't ignore it.

"She asked me to do one more thing, he said, "Wanted me to find her video. Find out how she gets back." He shook his head. "I know if won't help me work out what _we're _supposed to do with Layton and his greasy-features _here_, but at least I'll know how – and if – she makes it back." He cleared his throat. "Which she will," he said, trying to convince himself as much as anyone else.

"How the hell do you expect to get your hands on that?" Simon cried.

"Can't be that difficult," said Gene, "number of times that bespectacled _Wham!_ obsessive slipped in _here_ to leave you surprises on yer desk, about time I evened up the score and paid an unwelcome visit to the place."

"It's not that easy, Gene," Simon sighed, "the videos are all in the basement. The door's kept locked."

"Then I'll find a way to unlock it with that fire axe we keep down the hall for _emergencies,"_ said Gene.

"You can't be serious about this," Simon had a look of panic on his face, "Gene… going into Fenchurch West…. It's stupid and it's dangerous, there's no way of knowing what Keats will do if he catches you snooping around."

"Then the fire axe will be useful for _two_ reasons," Gene told him.

"Don't be ridiculous," Simon snapped, "you haven't thought this out at all, have you?"

"I've thought of little else," Gene said angrily. He stared at Simon, a deadly serious expression on his face. "It's for Alex. It's worth the risk"

Simon stared back at him. He had never seen Gene looking so determined about anything. He remembered when he shoe was on the other foot and Gene was trying to stop _him_ from venturing into Fenchurch West. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He had a feeling he was going to live to regret this – but at the same time he couldn't deny Gene the chance to find any way possible to bring Alex home. He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a circle of keys. He flicked through them, past keys to his office and fling cabinets as well as spare keys to his flat, then located one last key. He prised it from the keyring and handed it over.

"Here," he said quietly.

Gene stared at it.

"What's that for?" he asked suspiciously.

"I took it the last time I was there," Simon said quietly, "when I…" he flinched and hesitated, "when I worked for Keats. When I went to the basement. I kept the key." He held it out and saw Gene hesitating. "Go on, before I change my mind."

With a look of surprise mixed with gratitude Gene reached out and took the key from Simon.

"I appreciate this," he said quietly, "Truly. Thanks, Shoebury."

"Just… be careful," Simon whispered knowing only too well the risks Gene was taking, "be more than fucking careful."

Gene nodded as he pocketed the key.

"I will," he said firmly, "cross me heart."

All of a sudden things were moving on apace. The world was turning so fast that it almost knocked them from their feet.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

"_Kim,"_ Alex huffed and puffed to keep up as Kim flew down the corridor in a way that stuck two fingers up at her cracked ribs, "Kim, slow down –"

Kim barely heard.

"They said there's been a change," was all she could say.

"You're going to make yourself _ill,"_ Alex told her sternly, "your ribs –"

"My ribs want to know what's happened too," Kim told her, blocking out the throbbing as they protested at her pace.

Robin's shirt sleeves flapped over her hands. she'd been in such a hurry to dress and to head to the hospital that she hadn't thought to roll them up yet. All she could think about was getting to Robin's room. It was bad enough that she'd had to get a taxi because neither she nor Alex were able to drive yet.

"Kim, two more minutes isn't going to change the outcome," Alex clutched her side as stitch ran through her body and her bump ached from the rushing around. Strong kicks showed their disapproval for her fast pace and wouldn't be calmed with the rubbing of her hand.

Finally they reached ICU and a doctor was already waiting to speak to Kim.

"Kim Stringer?" he asked.

"Yes," Kim said a little breathlessly. She held a hand across her chest, feeling her heart racing as she tried to catch her breath.

"I'm doctor Masters," the doctor told her, "I was on duty this evening when the incident happened."

Kim froze.

"What kind of incident?" she whispered.

"Look, can we go t the relative's room and we'll talk about this in private," the doctor said. He began to heard Kim through a doorway but as Alex made to follow he stopped her. "Sorry, I need to speak with the next of kin."

"She's coming," Kim said without thinking.

"It should be family only; we're making enough of an exception for you."

"She _is_ kind of family," Kim said honestly. Looking back on her own family life and that of both Alex and Robin she began to see that all three of them had grown up with little family support for different reasons. Their shared experiences had forged a weird kind of family in itself. The roles flipped and swapped often - Kim often felt like she and Robin were the rowdy kids, while other times she felt very motherly to Alex in her own right, but either way there was no denying it.

The doctor stared at Kim.

"You're the one who inserted three items of stationery into the same porter because he ran over your toe, aren't you?" he asked.

"Yes," said Kim.

The doctor hesitated.

"In that case," he said, "she's welcome to come too."

He led them both through to the relative's room and waited for them to take a seat. Kim tried desperately to read his expression. They wouldn't give her any definite answers on the phone – was it good news or bad? What was going on? Finally she couldn't stand the wait any longer and said,

"Please, just tell me, has something happened? Is he still alive?"

The doctor nodded.

"Yes, he is," he began, "but we're not entirely sure what's happening with his condition at the moment."

"I don't understand," Kim frowned, trying to work out what he meant.

"Robin had a sudden burst of brain activity," the doctor explained, "it seemed he was starting to regain consciousness. A nurse reported seeing his eyes open and there was some movement that couldn't be classed as a reflex response." He gave a slight sigh as his expression changed. "However –"

In the space of seconds Kim's emotions changed from anxiety to hope to a terrible sense of dread. That one word – _'however'_ – held far too much power.

"What?" she whispered, feeling as though she was about to vomit at any moment.

"He went into a sudden cardiac arrest," the doctor explained, "and luckily we were able to revive him, but it's impossible for us to be able to guarantee where things will progress from here."

"What the hell caused the heart attack?" Kim whispered, every inch of her body shaking.

"We had been reducing the dose of certain medications to see if it would help him to regain consciousness," the doctor explained, "it's possible it was too much, too soon and his body was unable to cope. We'll be slowing down the process to avoid a reoccurrence of this."

"That's what happened to me," Alex whispered.

Kim glanced at her.

"What?" she whispered, still trembling.

"When they tried to bring me round… my original coma," Alex felt a little awkward about the 'two comas' label and tried to gloss over that part, "they changed the dose too quickly."

Kim narrowed her eyes at the doctor.

"can't you lot learn from your mistakes?" she accused.

"Every patient is different," the doctor explained patiently, "their metabolism, their previous health, their BMI, everything makes a difference when it comes to how they react to medication and treatment. Please be assured that we're monitoring him carefully, and take heart that despite the way things occurred there are some very positive things to be taken from this."

"Like?"

"Like the fact that your boyfriend –"

"That's fiancé." Kim said quickly.

"- did regain consciousness, if only for a short time. That's the first hurdle – the worry had been that he may not be able to. If there had been severe brain damage he may never have even got that far. Now we know he _can_ we just need to have patience and wait for him to be ready."

Kim closed her eyes for a moment as her heart started to speed up.

"Wait," she whispered, "are you telling me that he's going to wake up?"

"It's looking like a strong possibility now," the doctor told her.

Kim drew in her breath and let it out slowly, trying desperately not to let her excitement grow too strong. They were only words. There were no guarantees. But this was so much more than she'd had just hours before. She didn't dare hope or wish too hard, there was such a long way to go, but she allowed herself one tiny smile and a blissful moment to picture what it would be like to see his eyes opening and to see him smile again.

"He'll wake up," she whispered, "he's got to. He doesn't do things by halves. He'll have to finish what he's started now."

She could almost feel him getting closer now. However long things took he was going to make it back. She wasn't going to give him a choice.

"Doctor," Alex began quietly, "I was a patient here myself, I spent some time in a coma following a –" but her words were cut off by the doctor's pager and a kerfuffle in the corridor at the same moment. The doctor looked form his pager to the commotion and realised that he was needed.

"Excuse me," he said quickly, "I'm sorry, I have to attend to an emergency but you're quite welcome to go and spend some time with Robin now you're here."

He got to his feet and left the relative's room, with Alex and Kim exchanging a curious glance between themselves.

"I'd like to spend some time finding out what all the fuss is about out there," a nosy Alex admitted as she stood up.

Despite wanting to head straight to Robin's bedside Kim's own curiosity was getting the better of her and she followed Alex to the doorway.

"Ma'am, we'll probably only see a –" she began but her speech was cut off by a trolley whizzing by, surrounded by a mix of doctors, nurses and paramedics. There were people administering injections on the go, others keeping the patient breathing and some talking urgently about the condition of the man whose skin was deathly pale and whose life had all but gone.

"…_call came in from HMP Fenchurch twenty minutes ago,"_ they heard one of them saying, "_fifty-three year old male, suspected overdose. Name, Arthur Layton."_

Worlds stopped turning in that instant.

Worlds stopped turning, Alex almost stopped breathing and everything stopped making sense.

She turned to Kim with wide eyes, scarcely believing what she'd heard.

"He just… did he say…?" she whispered, trying to make sense of the last few moments.

Kim found herself chewing nervously on her lip.

"Arthur Layton," she whispered.

It felt like forever and a day passed as they stood and stared at one another. Words didn't have the power to express the strangeness of the moment; the coincidence, the link with all the information Alex had placed upon her flipchart, Kim's nightmare...It was too much, simply too much to handle. Finally the both gave up trying to speak. There was nothing that one could say which the other wasn't thinking already. Two sets of legs started to move at the same moment, following fast after the medical team who had wheeled one messed up man away down the corridor just moments before.

Things were happening. Dimensions were shifting. Worlds were pulling together.

Home was calling.

**~xXx~**

_#...Don't look no more,_

_Coz it'll only make your eyes sore_

_Count your R.E.M's,_

_It's comforting the sanctuary there we have_

_(ooo oo, we argue sometimes and we fear we put the knife in too deep_

_but even when madness heads, it's only gladness I keep inside inside)_

_So give me a sign_

_Coz we are Indestructible_

_Yes we are_

_And you are my life-line_

_And we are Indestructible_

_Yes we are_

_Hey, hey, you can be wicked_

_And you know I can be fickle sometimes too, y'know_

_Maybe you're my better side_

_Or maybe you annoy me to the point of where I'm holding this_

_gun against your head, but I never said we have the same free spirit,_

_tell me will you cry? Don't cry_

_So give me a sign_

_Coz we are Indestructible_

_Yeah we are_

_And you are my life-line_

_And we are Indestructible_

_Yes we are_

_You take me as I am, mister_

_I've a little red devil on my shoe_

_You always stay real strong_

_You can take the rough with the smooth_

_And I know that we forget what we mean to say_

_Too proud sometimes_

_Guess we're only human_

_Coz we are Indestructible_

_Yeah we are_

_And you are my life-line_

_We are Indestructible_

_Yes we are_

_So give me a sign…#_

_Indestructible – Alisha's Attic_

**~xXx~**

_**A/N – Bizarrely this was my favourite chapter so far to write, I don't know why I just got so into it I kind of lost myself in it… and all one handed typing :D I hope you'll stick with the story as it approaches its climax and I hope that you're enjoying it as much as I'm still enjoying writing it. **_

_**Don't forget to go and vote in my poll! x**_


	17. Chapter 15: Novocaine For The Soul

**Chapter Fifteen**

**1997**

It had been a long time since Gene had ventured to those parts.

For all of Keats's bothering of Fenchurch East Gene hadn't been to the wild West since the rooftop confrontation that led eventually to 'his' Alex's return. Back then Keats had been so full of himself; he finally had his own station, his own CID, his own version of Gene's life – even, briefly, his own Alex. He couldn't have been a more smug specimen of evil if he tried. Gene remembered every moment of that confrontation so well. He learned the truth about Keats – that it was his own strong passion for the job that brought about the negative energy to balance it out, which Keats absorbed eagerly and used to become the 'anti-Gene'.

So Gene was the one 'doing it wrong'.

"Tough shit, Jimbo, I haven't stopped caring yet," he mumbled as he stepped out of the car and closed the door behind him.

It was strange to be back. On the outside the station still resembled Fenchurch East after Keats took the liberty of 'remodelling' but inside he knew it couldn't be more different to its counterpart. The air felt so dark that he almost went back to the car for a torch to help him through. Just staring at the building made him shudder.

He thought about Keats and all the times he'd invited himself into Fenchurch East. Security didn't seem to be able to do a thing. Why was that? Did he vanish and rematerialize somewhere in the depths of CID? Going by past evidence Gene wouldn't have been surprised. But he suspected it was more simple than that – it was a case of being… what was the technical term for it? Oh yes, an _arrogant cocky bastard._

"And _I _was the _original_ arrogant, cocky bastard," Gene said to himself, striding towards the building. Nothing was going to stop him from getting the tape. Whatever he might have thought of the message, Alex was very insistent. He barely hesitated as he reached the doors and stepped into the building; the place that held the mirror image and yet polar opposite of the station he knew like the back of his hand. Casually flashing his warrant to the young officer on reception, he managed to gloss over the part about being Keats's sworn enemy and said simply,

"Come to liaise on the Nailer search, love. Any idea where I can find CID?"

The officer didn't even think to question him. She merely gave him instructions that he didn't even need and watched him smile politely and head off in the direction she'd told him before doubling back when he was sure no one was looking and following his instincts. Something was guiding him. He wasn't sure what it was, only that his feet seemed to know where to go. Sure enough, almost before he knew it there he was - at the top of a staircase with a sign marked _Archiving_.

"Great. I'm just in the mood for some video nasties," Gene mumbled to himself before taking a deep breath and making his way down the staircase. He was ready for whatever the room below held. Answers were almost at his fingertips now.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

Alex couldn't help it. She had to know what was going on. She found herself trotting down the corridor after Layton's ailing body until a doctor blocked her way.

"Excuse me, madam, you can't come through here," he told her.

"I'm DCI Alex Drake," she began, hesitating and rolling her eyes as she realised she had to issue a 'correction'._ Damn time-travel demotion._ "DI Alex Drake," she said, "I couldn't help but over hear that you brought in Arthur Layton…"

The doctor hesitated, a moment away from telling her everything she never wanted to know about patient confidently. The woman before him looked familiar and after a few moments wracking his brains he realised why.

"Oh my goodness… It's _you_, isn't it?" he found himself smiling with a slight look of awe across his face, "you were here. You were comatose for –"

"A long time, I know," Alex said through gritted teeth. This was proving to be a trip down memory lane that she could very well do without.

"It's wonderful to see you looking so good," he told her, "up and around, getting back on track, I can think of so many doctors who'll be thrilled to hear how well you're doing."

"I'll be doing even better if you can tell me what's going on with Arthur Layton," Alex said.

The doctor hesitated with a nervous laugh. He scratched his head looking awkward and apologetic.

"Listen," he began, "you know I can't give that information out to members of the public. Especially not to ones who…" he paused, "well, Mister Layton… he was the one who cased your initial injury, wasn't he?"

Alex took a deep breath.

"Doctor –" she scanned for a nametag, "- Doctor Gamble, I'm not asking as a member of the public, nor as a victim, I'm asking as a detective. He was supposed to be in prison."

"And he was," the doctor explained.

"But I thought someone said suspected overdose…"

The doctor closed his eyes for a moment. He wasn't' sure whether he should be talking to Alex about this or not. Yes, he knew she was a detective but he wasn't sure where the boundaries lay in that particular moment. Eventually he sighed and nodded.

"Yes," he said, "Mister Layton's cellmate raised the alarm when he heard choking. Evidence of drug use was found beside him." He shook his head sadly, "even with the highest security every now and then something sneaks past the watching eyes and into the cells. Arthur must have managed to get his hands on some."

"Suicide attempt?" Alex asked.

The doctor shrugged.

"Right now it's hard to know", he said, "it's certainly possible. Remember though that he was a pervious heavy user who has been, we presume, off the narcotics for some time. Taking a hit after a long spell away, he may have misjudged his dose"

"It could have been an accidental overdose?" Alex asked.

"It's just impossible to know right now," the doctor said starting to step back, "look, you'll have to excuse me, I'll be needed in a moment. Good to see you again though."

Alex watched him rushing away to attend to Layton. Her emotions began to churn inside of her, a strong mix of anxiety, anger and anticipation. What was his condition? Was he going to survive? If he died through deliberate or accidental means then how could she see him brought to justice? She needed him to face trial. She needed to see him put away - not put in a box, six feet under.

She knew that all she could do for now was to wait for news. Whatever the outcome she was going to be following it closely. It seemed that fate agreed with her – Arthur Layton held the key to her safe return to Gene and the nineties, and suddenly there he was, in a gift-wrapped, half-dead package.

**~xXx~**

**1997**

The telephone made Victoria jump out of her skin. She was chewing ferociously on her fingernails already and her nerves were not on her side. She glanced at Nailer who was happily enjoying his second coffee while her anxiety had tied her stomach into so many knots that she had made no progress with her first. She looked to him for guidance.

"Leave that," he recommended.

"It could be work," Victoria said nervously.

"All the more reason to leave it then," Nailer smiled amiably.

Victoria hesitated. She felt so far out of her depth that she wanted to just run and hide. The phone was still ringing, the constant noise pricking her annoyance like a pin cushion. Eventually despite Nailer's advice she jumped to her feet and snatched up the receiver.

_"What?"_ she barked, her voice shaking a little. As the voice of a colleague came on the line she closed her eyes, fear building up to a crescendo in her chest. She took a deep breath and tried to think on her feet. "Yes… yes, I'm sorry… no I didn't realise it was that late." She glanced at the clock and her jaw almost dropped. She knew that she should have been at work by now but how had that much time passed? She felt a little disturbed that – until the ringing of the phone – she'd actually started to feel relaxed in Nick Nailer's company. She shook her head slightly and tried to ignore those feelings. "I'm really sorry, I've got food poisoning. Yeah. I-I think I'm over the worst, I'll…" she swallowed and breathed in deeply, "I'll take a shower and I'll be there as soon as I can."

Nailer looked at her with great disappointment as she hung up from her call. He lifted his mug and shook his head slightly.

"You said you wanted out of that place," he reminded her.

Victoria felt her heart racing inside her chest.

"Yes," she hissed, "I did. And I still do. But I panicked."

"Keep _cool_, Victoria," Nailer told her, "just remember I'm not going to let anything happen to you. _Unlike_ that so called DCI of yours."

"You're a big time drug baron and an escapee," Victoria cried, "how am I supposed to keep cool? Why should I trust you?"

Nailer genuinely looked a little sad. He knew she had no reason to trust him, other than his word.

"Maybe because we have a common enemy," he reminded her.

Victoria swallowed. She knew that he was right about that. It didn't explain the strange draw she felt to him though; a wave of familiarity as thought they'd known each other in some other life. She pushed those thoughts out of her mind and rushed to the doorway.

"I have to get dressed and go," she said.

"And what about me?"

"Do what you like!" Victoria cried, "clean my sink. Make me dinner. Polish the floor. Can I remind you that _you_ were the one who broke _out_ of prison and _into_ my house? I owe you nothing, Mister Nailer, and if I don't go to work can you imagine how that will look?"

"There's nothing to connect you pulling a sicky to my exit from the cells," Nailer told her.

"Except the little matter of visiting you in the aforementioned cells yesterday," said Victoria, "if that gets out –"

"Vicky, you need to trust me."

"I _need_ to get _dressed_," Victoria said through gritted teeth, angry with the way that he was affecting her. She marched form the room and prepared to get ready for work, her thoughts churning around and around in her mind the whole time. She eventually threw on some clothes, pulled a brush through her hair and fastened it back in a harsh ponytail. She looked at herself in the mirror - her skin looked pale and haunted. God, she'd actually _pass_ for having food poisoning looking that way too.

Nailer was still sitting at the kitchen table when she re-emerged, scrambling for her handbag.

"I'm telling you to rethink this," he urged her, "go back to that place and you're putting yourself back in the firing line. I don't trust that ratty DCI."

"I can take care of myself."

"You shouldn't have to," Nailer reminded her, "not against your boss."

Victoria threw her bag over her shoulder.

"I'm going now," she said.

"You really shouldn't," Nailer had a dark feeling about this. He couldn't explain it. He just had a bad feeling in his gut. But there was nothing he could do to stop the redhead as she turned and left the flat, only too aware that she'd left an escaped drug baron in her kitchen. She knew this situation was ridiculous. It made no sense. And yet inside she felt trusting Nailer made more sense than anything that had happened since she started work at Fenchurch West.

Tiny memories began to stab her in the back of her mind. _Needles. Distorted voices. Strange sensations._ But they were there for a moment and then they'd gone.

Just like the memories she quickly disappeared from the premises and began the drive to work. It was going to be a dark and difficult day, she knew that much for sure.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

Kim had to admit that if it was a choice between following greasy Arthur Layton or going to sit by Robin's bedside then there was only ever going to be one winner and it wasn't going to be the ratty-haired one. She felt just as shaken by his urgent hospital arrival as Alex did but her priority was Robin so she left the curious questions to her friend and slipped away to Robin's room as soon as she was able to. There were a few extra monitors there now after his earlier 'cardiac event' but other than that it didn't seem as though anything had changed.

Inside she knew differently. He was fighting to get back. He was close, too.

"Hey Rob," she said quietly as she sat carefully in the hard, plastic chair beside his bed. It didn't do much for her aching bones. She would have given anything to crawl into bed beside him, wrap her arm around his chest and bury her face against his warm shoulder but she had to settle for holding his hand instead. The ring was still there on his finger and the sight of it made her smile. "Well, haven't _you_ had a busy night?" she said quietly, "first you almost wake up, lazy arse. Then you almost give up the ghost. And out there –" she pointed to the door, "it's all gone crazy with our friend mister Layton. _Overindulged_, apparently. Chaos, Rob. Utter chaos."

She stared at him, so still and silent, trying to imagine his eyes open and alert. There was still a long way to go but she knew he was getting there, slowly.

"You should see the state of me," she whispered with a tiny laugh, "my hair looks like a bloody hedgehog, I just got in a taxi and came right in. And I've borrowed your shirt and forgot to roll up the sleeves; I was running along the corridor like I had an elephant trunk on each arm." She sighed and shook her head. "At least it covers up the top of my trousers so no one sees the button hanging open. Oh yeah, a tip for you, Rob; if you're trying to get pregnant don't lend someone all your maternity clothes because when you start to show a bit it helps to have something that still fits." She sighed again. "See, you _need_ to come home now and start making fun of me for getting fat and hogging the toilet. It's only fair, after I picked on you all that time… all your bloody symptoms… and besides, it's not natural, no one making fun of me, I've got no bloody banter. Tried it with Alex… but she's use to sparing with Gene, being accused of being an alcoholic car obsessive with a cowboy complex didn't sit well; with me. And none of her rebuttals involve arses. Those are my favourite ones, too."

She looked around for a moment before she moved a little closer. She ran her fingers through the front of his hair as she whispered,

"Something's going on here, Rob. I mean, _right here_, right now. They just wheeled Layton in. Overdose." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I've been having nightmares about that scummy twat all night. About when he shot me. Or, tried to shoot _you_. They… they were different." She took a deep breath. "Then I got the call to come to the hospital. You woke up… just for a moment… then your bloody heart stopped, didn't it? So you need to try the waking up part again and just forget about the heart attack bit next time, OK? Because things are definitely moving on, Rob. You need to get back here… you _almost_ did… I'm just going to be waiting. Because I know you're going to make it."

She squeezed his hand and watched his face. Although it didn't flicker she could picture his eyes opening so clearly that she was sure it would be a reality before too long.

**~xXx~**

**1997**

The key slipped into the lock. A perfect fit. Gene had been harbouring a fear that Simon had given him the wrong key and given him the one to his cupboard of Red Dwarf merchandise by accident but his fears were unfounded. The door slowly opened and he felt around for a light switch to shed some light on the dark expanse beyond. As the lights pinged on one at a time with a shuddering metallic noise the contents of the room revealed themselves to Gene; filing cabinets, lockers and cupboards, one after another, with videos filling most of the available space. It was the first time Gene had seen it for himself.

"He's got his own branch of _Blockbusters_ here," he mumbled, where the bleeding hell am I even supposed to start?"

Glancing behind him at the stairs as though worried someone was going to appear at any moment he tried doing _eenie meenie minie mo_ to help him decide where to begin but got side tracked by inventing more and more gory versions of the rhyme which involved catching Keats by the bollocks rather than a tiger by its toe. In the end he decided just to go about it by scanning the shelves and hoping that Alex's name would stand out.

A couple of the lockers needed keys but Gene soon saw to that with determination, brute force and a handy metal bar he found in the corner of the room. He soon started to go video blind; scanning rows and rows of tapes, each one bearing a different name. Soon all he could see before his eyes were dancing videos, almost like they were mocking him, doing a song and dance routine in the air.

"Either I've sampled one of Layton's goodies or I need a break," he muttered. How the hell was he ever going to find it? There were hundreds of videos, there was no _way_ he was ever going to spot the right one. How the hell did Simon do it when he went looking for tapes? Did he have come kind of sixth sense or something? Too many years recoding sci-fi programmes maybe, giving him an affinity with video tapes. He sank to the floor and reached for his flask before realising it was still empty.

"Bugger," he mumbled. He tried unscrewing the cap and tipping it up into his mouth anyway, getting all of three drops. _Better than nothing,_ he supposed. He put the flask away and looked around the room with a sigh. There were a few random spiders making their homes down there but it certainly wasn't the most welcoming place. Even Gene was getting the creeps.

He focused on the TV and video at one end of the room, the same TV where Simon had watched Robin's tape less than a year ago. He recalled Simon telling him about the strange addition to the end of the tape; the '_coming soon'_ part. It was clear now what Simon had seen – somehow ahead of time he'd seen Robin's arrival to the world in Manchester. Until then Gene didn't think it was possible to see future arrivals in the depths of Keats's video dungeon. Between that and Alex's message he could see that things were changing.

"Bloody technology," he mumbled, "even Jimbo's snuff movie collection is evolving."

Something caught his eye. He didn't even know why it took his curiosity so much. Under the stand on which the television was placed there seemed to be one box; one cassette all by itself. He felt a shiver running down his spine. A memory forced its way back into his head; a different Alex, the _wrong_ Alex in the wrong body, down in Keats's basement, finding her own video. When his own Alex returned she had very few memories of the things the 'other' her had done in her absence but she _did_ remember viewing her own tape.

"I wonder…" Gene muttered. He slid across the floor and slipped his fingers beneath the stand. The tape was wedged in quite securely but with a little manoeuvring, and then lifting the cabinet an inch or so with a cry of "_why didn't I bloody do that in the first place?"_ suddenly the tape was in his hands and the name on the side displayed proudly for him to see.

_Alex_

It was what he'd been looking for. What he needed to discover. The thing that Alex herself had told him to find. It was the whole purpose of his visit and the one thing he could to help Alex home. And yet, as he stared at the tape and saw how much his hands were shaking, he realised he wasn't ready for this. Not at all. He could have spent a year building up to it but still nothing would prepare him for knowing that he held in his hands _the_ answer; would Alex get home or not? It was a lot to try to comprehend.

He knew he had no choice. He just had to suck it up, take the tape and learn to deal with whatever he saw. This was it, the moment he'd been waiting for. The moment Alex had told him to make happen.

He got to his feet and slipped the tape inside his jacket before he began to make his way back up the stairs. The wild west had provided the tape he required - yet somehow the hard part was still to come.

~xXx~

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

Keats stopped pacing finally and leaned over his desk, breathing and panting like a pregnant woman in labour. There were shockwaves evil, of anger, of bitterness surging through his body. While he was used to that he had never felt them with such gusto before. The strength of the violent, evil urges he was getting surprised and shocked him. This was so different… this was almost scaring him.

He gripped the edge of his desk so hard that his knuckles turned white. Another wave of dark energy pulsed through him, an energy he just couldn't find a way to control. What the hell was _happening_ to him? For a year and a half he'd been back in that world, drinking from the energy created to balance out the good that people like Gene and Alex did for those they looked after. The slowing down of energy when Alex awoke and Gene's heart as no longer in the job had been gradual and Keats's slow decline of strength had been almost imperceptible. By the time he noticed any difference months had passed by and his nefarious drives were limited to taunting Simon with evidence of his mother's infidelity rather than the usual mix of violence, sexual assault and soul-stealing that his daily routine entailed.

He made a groaning noise and his face creased up with strain as he tried to control the sensation that filled him; the need to let the increased energy loose, to cause so much pain and suffering that the cries of the victims would be heard for miles around. What the _fuck_ was different? Yes, Gene's fire was coming back and there was one more source of energy to feed off of but –

_Robin._ That had to be it. With a noise of angry revulsion Keats closed his eyes and considered the genetic connection. Was that why the energy was so overwhelming? Was it a bit like accepting a kidney from a close relative? That the energy was more likely to take because there was shared blood between them?

"_Fucking Robin," _he hissed through gritted teeth, grasping the pot of pens on his desk and slamming it across the room where it struck the wall, sending a shower of stationery in every direction. As though he didn't have _enough_ hatred for the man already. What was the point of taking on all this extra malevolence if he couldn't control it well enough to use it?

There were voices outside. One voice in particular. A _female_ voice. He turned to the doorway and peered out. Victoria's desk was no longer empty; his DI had arrived looking somewhat haunted. He wrapped his fingers around the door handle and tried to count to ten to cool his temper before he opened it but the counting trick had little effect – it merely gave him another ten seconds of dark energy to lap up.

He turned the handle slowly and stepped outside. He saw her eyes flicker upwards. She'd seen him. _Good_. Let her live in fear of every footstep.

He couldn't remember ever walking at such a slow pace before. He took the very slowest of walks through CID; one foot after another, slowly pacing it out. He could see her shake a little more with every inch he moved towards her. She knew she was in trouble. She had yet to find out how much.

"DI Stone."

Even his voice had changed. It was darker and deeper; sharper, every word spilling over with anger. Slowly her eyes rose to his level. He watched her tremble and that made him want to smirk but he had to keep his expression grim and full of fury.

"I'm sorry I'm so late sir," she said quietly, "I must have had some bad prawns for dinner. I was throwing up all night."

"Of course you were," Keats took one last step towards her. He was so close now that not only could she catch the scent of his aftershave but she could smell his anger too.

"I'm sorry, I should have called you to let you know I'd be in late," Victoria said quickly.

Keats saw the fear in her eyes and lapped it up like the tastiest treat he'd ever known. It was beautiful. He wondered how much more fear he could extract from her.

"Between your tardiness and your attitude lately I am feeling a disciplinary coming on," he told her.

Her expression tuned from fear to shock.

"What?" she hissed.

"Something needs to be done about your attitude and your efficiency," Keats hissed, "perhaps detective inspector was a step too far. Perhaps you need to look at setting your sights a bit lower."

Victoria blinked and swallowed. She tried to keep her voice level. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing it wobble.

"Are you saying you're going to demote me?" she demanded, quietly adding, "sir?" on the end.

"That depends on whether you can start to pull your weight around here," Keats told her, "or at least give the boys something to look at." He reached forward and roughly pulled the band from her hair. She gave a pained gasp, partly from the sharp motion pulling her hair and partly because the action made her feel violated. She drew back and moved her chair slightly further away from him but Keats didn't appreciate that and took a step toward her before he grasped her shoulder and pulled her out of the chair.

"Is that how you show your DCI respect?" he hissed.

"Is that how _you_ show your _DI_ respect?" Victoria countered. There was still a strong sense of fear in her veins but her bite was starting to come to the fore.

"You think a few bad prawns is enough reason to stay away from work?" Keats began, almost spitting wildly, "nothing compared to a pair of black eyes."

"_Sir!"_ one of Keats's DCs got to his feet, his mouth hanging open in shock. He'd seen the way Keats treated Victoria – they _all_ had – but no one had been bold enough to stand up for her or to put themselves in the middle of the situation before. Then again, Keats had never threatened physical violence before.

"Shut up and sit down, Dillion," Keats barked over his shoulder, saliva flying with every word like a rabid dog barking at a passer-by.

"That's enough!" Dillion yelled.

"What's the matter with you?" A female DS cried. She had been just as guilty of staying out of the matter for all that time, afraid of the consequences if she tried to interfere, but everyone could see the change in Keats now. This was going _far_ too far.

"You can all keep your sticky beaks _out,"_ Keats sneered, "you think I need a bunch of snivelling failures trying to teach me about chivalry? Let me tell you something – you failed, every last one of you."

"What do you mean, we 'failed?" another DC piped up from behind his desk nervously.

"What do you think you're here for?" Keats cried, his fury slowly turning into wild, manic laughter, "not because you shine at your chosen profession, that's for certain! You need me and you need your job more than you realise – no one else would touch any of you with a forty-foot pole. So sit the fuck down and stay out of my –" the end of his sentence was cut off by a fist ploughing into his cheekbone.

Victoria's knuckles stung and throbbed. She'd thrown so much power behind the punch, almost _too_ much – all that pent-up anger, frustration and resentment from a year and a half of abuse had finally boiled over and she couldn't hold back. The punch had been enough to knock Keats's grasp from her shoulder and now free from his grip she ran; her legs took her at speed from the office where she'd taken insult after insult, put down after put down, for all that time. He'd made her feel worthless. He'd even _told_ her that she was. After all that time under Keats's remit she felt two inches high. But something had changed inside of her. Someone had given her back a little of her fight. Someone unexpected who had faith and belief in her. Someone who might have been on the other side of the law but had more scruples in one finger than Keats had in his whole body

It wasn't something Victoria had ever expected to find herself thinking, but she really wished she'd listened to Nick Nailer.

She could hear footsteps now, pounding after her down the corridor. Her heart started to race with fear and she found herself starting to sob silently. She begged and pleaded in her mind to get out of the building; to escape before he caught up to her. She had to get out, she had to be safe, she needed to escape from a man who had truly passed to the other side of sanity. Keats was insane. Insane and dangerous. More than ever before.

The hand that grasped the back of her clothes and dragged her to the ground was rough and forceful and she screamed the moment it made contact with the fabric. Her knees stung as they struck the floor and her hands picked up carpet burns as the man behind the action tried to drag her backwards.

"What do you think you're doing, detective inspector?" he hissed, "going somewhere without permission? You're already got two hours to make up for."

"_No!" _she screamed, "someone, help me –"

"No one's going to run to your rescue, red," Keats hissed. He turned her over and grasped her thick red waves in his fingers, pinning her head to the ground as he did so, "this is _my_ station. And this is my world. They'll all turn their back on you because when it comes down to it I'm the only one who matters here. It's just me, Victoria. I _am_ this station. I'm everything you see around you. No one's going to run to your rescue."

"Get _off_ me," she cried as she thrashed from side to side, trying desperately to escape his grip but with her body pinned to the ground she couldn't fight back this time. It mattered not how loud she cried or how much she begged. Almost as though the station adhered to Keats's request, the corridor was empty. It was as though the station really _was_ Keats; a part of his psyche. It moulded itself to his desire, cleared the way for him to finally take out a violent revenge on Victoria for every tiny thing that she'd done. Any time she'd dared to defy him, any time she'd failed to take his behaviour like a good little girl. Now as he took her wrists and pinned them over her head she closed her eyes and braced herself for the worst. Which way was his going to go; sex or violence? Or both? All she could do was wait for it to be over. She knew this had been a long tine coming. She'd been on borrowed time. Now every drop of his venom was going to be unleashed.

~xXx~

He was already halfway up the stairs when he heard the screaming. Glancing behind him back into the basement Gene commented;

"I thought the screams of torture were supposed to come from _under_ the ground."

When another scream rang out followed by the sound of an angry Keats threatening someone Gene realised that this wasn't some obscure otherworldly cry of doom; someone was facing the wrath of the most evil and twisted man Gene had ever met.

"Bloody hell, sounds like someone's had his Weetabix," he mumbled as he began to run up the rest of the stairs, taking them two at a time until he reached the top and pushed back the door. He couldn't see anyone but he could still hear the screaming. In fact, that was strange by itself. He couldn't see anyone. No one at all. Where the hell were the rest of the staff?

Another scream stopped him from wondering about that as he tried to work out what direction it was coming from. He glanced to his left and started to run down the corridor, the voice coming closer with every step. What the hell was going on? Gene almost didn't want to know.

As he turned the corner and came out upon a landing he found Keats's back to him as he sat over a woman Gene vaguely recognised, He'd seen her once or twice. She screamed and struggled but the more she fought the tighter Keats's hold on her became.

"_What, you like it rough?"_ he heard Keats hiss, _"is that it?"_

Gene had rarely felt so much contempt for one person. His anger boiled up inside of him. He lunged for the crazed man, grasped him by the back of his jacket and hauled him roughly to his feet.

"I thought you'd hit the last of the lows," he cried as he turned Keats around and swiftly aimed a fist at his jaw, "and then you somehow manage to stoop to a whole new level, don't you?" It took Keats a few seconds to work out what was going on and make sense of the punch. He didn't even realise at first that Gene was the one who'd offered up a fist to his throbbing jaw. Even when he did, he couldn't make _sense_ of it. What the hell was Gene doing on the premises anyway?

"Don't tell me, you're looking for a job?" Keats sneered, a crooked smirk appearing as he regarded Gene, "sorry, no openings here for aging, lardy DCIs who smell like a cross between Oddbins and the fragrance counter of a nineteen seventies chemist shop."

"The only openings I'm interested in are the ones I can shove a tent pole up," Gene threatened. He took hold of Keats by the collar and pushed him against the wall as Victoria managed to scramble to her feet and flee the scene, her feet almost on fire from the speed of her escape. For a moment Gene wondered if he should go after her to see if she was alright but he had a stronger need to confront Keats about his actions instead. Hell, it had been a long time coming.

"Get off my fucking suit," Keats hissed as he tried to prise Gene's hands from his collar.

"With pleasure," Gene hissed and he grasped him by the neck instead. As he gagged and spluttered, Keats began to feel somewhat regretful of taking so much pride in the appearance of his suit.

"Security will be here any moment," he choked, just hoping he was right. There was no one nearby. That was of his doing. Now he had no one to blame but himself.

"Oh really?" hissed Gene, "then I'd better make this quick, hadn't I?" he pressed his face right up against Keats's until their noses literally touched and his burning hot breath almost seared Keats's skin away from his skull as he continued, "Attacking a woman – a female DI under yer own care no less – in the middle of a police station. You've got a big bloody witness here, Jimbo, and one who's more than happy to give a full description of everything he's seen. Let you get away with this shit one time too many, Keats. I'll make this one stick if I have to jam a tube of superglue three feet up yer rectum."

"You seem a little too fascinated with sticking things up my – _urgh - Oof_," Keats found his smug words cut off by a knee to the groin and a fist to the stomach. As he slid to the ground he caught sight of Gene's expression. He wasn't bluffing.

"How many people do you need to target, eh Keats? How many people do you need to hurt? Alex. Stringer. Simon. Now your red-haired escapee – let's hope she keeps on running because she's stuck it out with your flame-grilled hell for far too long." He stood over Keats and watched him clutching his stomach as the aftershock oh the punch caused ripples of pain through his abdomen. "Oh _dear_, did I 'urt you?" Gene asked, "We'll say that one's for Stringer and work our way up shall we? Who next? Simon or Bols?"

"You're crazy," Keats hissed as he tried to get to his feet.

"_I'm_ crazy?" cried Gene, "that's praise indeed coming from someone whose Christmas list is made up of a straightjacket and a few rolls of rubber wallpaper." The sound of footsteps made Gene curse. It sounded as though security had caught up with Keats's desire for assistance at last. _Damnit_, he was just starting to enjoy himself. "Trust me, Jimbo, this is far from over," he warned, "but next time it'll be handcuffs instead of fists. This is it. Over." He stepped back. Patting his jacket to make sure the tape was still securely tucked away inside. "Now if you don't mind I'm off to watch a film."

He took one last look at the crumpled Keats on the ground before he made his escape. There was something different about him, more dangerous than ever before. Gene didn't like that. Neither was he going to stand for it. This was the beginning of the end for Keats. Gene was one hundred percent sure of that. But he had one other, more important piece of business to deal with first because when Keats went down he wanted Alex standing right by his side.

~xXx~

The sound of her heels hitting the tarmac as she fled through the car park was almost deafening. It reverberated around the space and around her head as well. She concentrated on the sounds, knowing every step she heard took her one step away from Keats and one step away from danger. She reached her car, scrambling in her pockets for her keys when suddenly the passenger door opened right before her.

"What the _fuck-?"_ she panted, not even sure that it was really happening. Was she hallucinating? Was this all in her head? The sight of Nailer sitting in the driver's seat brought both anxiety and relief. Her mouth dropped open as she fell desperately into the car and cried, "what the hell are you doing here, and how the fuck did you get into my car?"

"You learn a few tricks in my line of work," Nailer told her amiably.

"And my first question?" Victoria demanded.

Nailer shook his head.

"I told you I didn't trust your DCI," he said, a note of sadness in his voice as he saw the state of her.

"Well you were right," Victoria said shakily, "he's crazy… he's crazy and I've known that for a long time but never… never had the strength to get out." She looked at Nailer. She knew what he was. She knew what he'd done. But there was an honesty about him despite his work that was a hundred times more appealing that Keats's classy, shiny layers of deception. "Just take me with you," she begged, "I'll help you with Layton, I'll do anything, just get me away from, this place."

Nailer nodded seriously. That was all he wanted to do.

"In that case I'll need your keys," he said.

"I thought your line of work taught you a few tricks?" Victoria cried, scrambling in her pockets once more.

"Yeah, a _few_…" Nailer repeated, "just… not _that_ one." He couldn't help but smile as the key found its way into his hand. "I think," he said, "this could be the start of a beautiful friendship."

"Bollocks, just drive," Victoria demanded.

Nailer was happy to.

Even the bad guys deserve to get the girl now and then.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

Needles plunged into his sunken skin. Hands worked against his bony chest. Men and women in uniform flocked around him as body lay on the trolley, trying to pump the life back into him. Was there anything left inside the crumbling shell or had he just given up? Was there any Arthur Layton left who wanted to fight on or had he chosen the easy way out?

There was a breath.

A heartbeat.

Then another.

A pulse, a splutter, a return to life for the body that had been without it just moments ago.

"Very, very good work everybody," one doctor said loudly, "that was a difficult one. He's back."

Like it or not, there was life – such as it was – in that ailing body yet. Arthur Layton was not finished yet.

_~xXx~_

_#...Life is hard_

_And so am I_

_You better give me something_

_So I don't die_

_Novocaine for the soul_

_Before I sputter out_

_Life is white_

_And I am black_

_Jesus and his lawyer_

_Are coming back_

_Oh my darling, will you be here_

_Before I sputter out_

_Guess whose living here_

_With the great undead_

_This paint by numbers life_

_Is fucking with my head once again_

_Life is good_

_And I feel great_

_'cause mother says I was_

_A great mistake_

_Novocaine for the soul_

_You'd better give me something_

_To fill the hole_

_Before I sputter out… #_

_Novocaine For The Soul - Eels_


	18. Chapter 16: Outlaw

**Chapter Sixteen**

**1997**

Gene closed his office door and pulled the shutters down. There was a horrible sick, burning sensation in his throat. He tried to swallow it back but it wasn't going anywhere. He reached into his jacket and pulled out the video tape he'd taken from Keats's basement. Alex's name stared back at him. He figured that Keats would keep hers separate from the other tapes. He'd done the same with Kim's. He must have had a separate plan for storing the tapes of anyone who got _Little Jimbo_ excited.

"Alright, Lady B," he sighed as he slid the tape from its box, "I've carried out my end of the bargain, now it's time for you to hold up your end of the deal. I found the tape –now show me that you get 'ome."

He pushed the tape into the slot on the combi TV and retreated to the filing cabinet where he extracted a new bottle of scotch and a glass. He was going to need a little Dutch courage to get through this. He quickly poured himself a measure and took a long, comforting gulp then sat down at his desk and took the remote control from a drawer. Whoever would have thought pressing 'play' would be one of the hardest things he'd ever done?

_"Relax, Alex, just drive."_

_Shit._ How had Gene not realised that he was going to see _everything?_ All the wake-ups, the trips back and forth, the times she crossed the line… he'd been so focused on the part about finding out how she would get back that he'd completely forgotten the tape would contain so much more. He'd never seen her entry to his world. He knew what happened but just hearing Alex talk about the moment Layton fired a gun at her head and watching it in full colour were two very different things.

_"What could my parents possibly have to do with any of this?"_ he watched her terrified face, _"They've been dead a long time."_

This was a very different Alex to the one Gene knew. He'd never seen her as her _two thousand and bollocks _persona before; the plain, sensible hair, the smart suit – a far cry from the Bolly who arrived with a skirt as short as Jimbo's list of redeeming qualities. It shook Gene up a little to watch it, and not just because he knew he was about to see the bullet that sent her to him but because it was the first time he really saw… really knew… really _understood_ that Alex had a life out there. She'd given it up for him when she made her choice to stay and now she'd be giving it up all over again to get back there.

_"I had an empire, yeah?" Back in the day. I had connections. I had dealers on every street corner."_

"Bloody hell, Layton," Gene couldn't believe the state of the crazed man on the screen. He'd thought Layton was in enough of a state in the 90s. It seemed the next decade would see the decay _really_ set in.

_"And things went wrong? Do you want to talk about that?"_

The scotch stuck in Gene's throat as he watched the man on the screen slip a pair of mirrored sunglasses onto his face and hold up his gun. The expression on Alex's face almost killed him stone dead as she awaited the inevitable.

_"You... you feel trapped,"_ he heard her desperate voice say, _"I mean, I can understand that. Those officers were itching for a fatality outcome…"_

And then it came. The bullet.

Down she went.

Gene closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath but his lungs didn't seem to want to co-operate. He pursed his lips and fought to keep his expression firm and determined. _Gene Hunt did not give in to girly emotions._ However, he was in serious danger of doing so as the video crackled and the scene changed to one of Alex in a hospital bed. Gene tried not to think about it… tried not to remember… he knew what this was. He remembered her fading away completely and reappearing, moments later, way back not long after Simon had arrived in the world on a permanent basis.

_"Mummy!"_

That word made Gene's heart sink into his boots.

"That's the girl," he muttered, reaching for a top-up. He'd never seen Molly before. Up until that point all he had was an image in his head made up from Alex's descriptions. Seeing her made it real, after all those years. Gene couldn't even begin to comprehend how Alex had made a choice between the two worlds. He couldn't stand to imagine either.

He watched on as Alex awoke, then succumbed to the ceasing of her heart. While the doctors got it pumping again Gene knew her soul had returned to him right there and then, but there was more to come. The tape just grew harder to watch from there on in with the bullet that Keats sank into her head in Kim's hospital room splitting her soul in two and sending her the wrong way. Gene could have done without a replay of that moment. Angrily he hit fast forward and skipped beyond it until the scene changed to one of a road and he realised he was watching her return to the right body. _Oh god, _he'd heard about it… but seeing it for himself?

"Bloody hell, Bolly, next time you send me a coded message can't you just tell me how you're going to get home yerself so I don't have to watch you dying thirty eight times first?" His guts were twisted into knots and he wasn't sure he would ever be able to block the horror from his mind.

_"Do you know where the road leads?"_

Somehow this part was the hardest of all to stomach. He'd heard descriptions from Alex, Robin and Simon about her return but he had never expected to watch it on screen. He saw her driving with Robin beside her, both in pursuit of one man; the same man he'd just seen donning mirrored sunglasses and sinking a bullet into Alex's head. The same man he was going to spend the day tracing. The man that Alex had told him was her ticket home.

_"The airfield."_

_"Right, hold on."_

Gene had to admit that he was impressed by the driving skills Alex displayed. They wouldn't have been out of place in his own repertoire.

"So me skills _have_ rubbed off on you," he commented quietly. He was glad of that. He watched as she kept on the trail of Layton until his driving became wild and erratic, and Gene knew what was coming.

"_What is he doing?"_ he watched Alex ask

_"I don't know_," he heard Robin say as his expression became more anxious,_ "But I don't feel –" _he stopped talking abruptly as the other car began to spin, _"Holy shit! Alex, stop-"_

_"Shit!"_

Gene's heart pulsed so hard that he could feel it all through his body. He clung to his glass as he watched the screen, willing himself not to look away as the cars collided and spun. Frozen in the moment, his eyes focused on the television as he watched Robin doing the impossible; sending Alex home from the other side.

That was never supposed to happen.

And yet, it had.

"She was supposed to be here," Gene mumbled, "doesn't belong there any more." That thought settled him slightly from the uncomfortable feelings he'd had since seeing Molly for the first time. Even with blood ties in the real world, that wasn't Alex's home any more. He could see that. He hung his head slightly as the scene ended and some static hissed and crackled for a few moments until it cleared once again to reveal the station car park. "_Bugger."_

Gene didn't need to see that part. It was nothing he hadn't watched a hundred times on CCTV; Alex falling to the ground, fading away, vanishing from his world. It didn't matter how many times he'd seen it, the pain never diminished. He drew in his breath as the picture changed and one of her hospital room showed instead; her eyes opening and her consciousness returning to her living body. He simply shook his head. It was wrong. It was all wrong. That wasn't where she belonged.

The static and blank tape that followed came as a relief. He didn't want to see her there in the waking world. It hurt too much. But after a few seconds of fuzz and buzzing he started to worry. The rest of the tape was blank. Where was her glorious return? Where was the answer she'd promised him? Not _there_, that was for sure.

"Bloody tape, bloody messages," Gene could feel his anger starting to grow. This couldn't have all been for nothing, it –

There was a loud crackle and a split second image before the static resumed. Gene frowned and peered a little closer as the image cleared for a second time. Soon the static was only visible in short bursts and the picture slowly took its place. It was faint and unclear for the most part, unlike the events that had gone before and Gene could understand now what Simon meant when he spoke about the footage on the end of Robin's tape. But none the less, this was it. If, when and how Alex was going to find her way home was about to become an awful lot clearer to Gene as the answers he'd been desperate for unfolded in front of his eyes.

But at what price knowledge?

X

He was still shaking as he stopped the tape after watching it for the fourth time. He wished he hadn't even seen it once.

_Focus on the bloody good side, Gene Hunt,_ he told himself.

She was coming back. She was going to make it home. He could see that beyond any doubt. For the first time he had tangible evidence rather than a gut feeling that they'd be reunited. That was the part to focus on. That was the part he should be concentrating on. It would surely give him that extra incentive to find Layton and give the bastard exactly what he deserved.

But the things he'd seen.

The things he'd _seen._

They were engraved upon his memory now. He would have to live with that. Watching the tape had been his decision and one he needed to make for Alex's sake - her request had been strong and insistent, and he wanted to do as she'd asked.

But now he knew, he couldn't forget.

He stared at the remote. The 'Rec' button stared back at him. _Funny,_ he thought, _how easy it would be to press that and erase the tape._

"Shame it doesn't work that way on the brain," he said seriously.

He downed the rest of his scotch and poured one more, then made a silent toast.

"_I think I'll be owing you forever_," he mumbled to someone who couldn't hear him. And he would.

But at least he knew Alex was coming home. Now it was time to play the waiting game.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

She knew that something wasn't right.

The whole feeling, the whole atmosphere... it may have only been a dream but she knew that things were not as she'd left them. As her mind brought back to her images of the familiar corridors of Fenchurch East and the people she missed so much Alex could feel something different in the air. It was a strong darkness, a malevolence in the atmosphere, something threatening and dangerous. She couldn't explain it any better than that. It felt as though everything that she knew and cared for was under threat from something she couldn't quite identify.

The darkness was swirling around in the air, filling the building like smoke from a fire. Her arms were covered with goosebumps and her spine filled with trembles and shudders. She felt her worry growing. Something wasn't right, not right at all.

_Gene –_

She could see him but she couldn't reach him. She wanted to run to him and throw her arms around him. Even though she knew it was only a dream it was as close as she could get to holding him tightly, but the dream wouldn't allow it. Something was holding her back, stopping her from reaching him.

"Gene!" she cried, "Gene, I'm here –" but before Gene could respond the darkness swallowed him up in an instant and Alex was left all alone once again.

"_DI Drake?"_

Where had Gene gone? She looked around desperately for him but there was no sign. Her head turned left and right, he had to be there somewhere –

"_DI Drake, why are you still here?"_

Something was interrupting the dream. Someone was calling her name. She didn't want to leave the dreamscape – she wanted to seek the source of the darkness, to find out what had engulfed Gene with its misery and whisked him away, but she couldn't stay asleep when someone was shaking her by the arm. Her eyes opened quickly and she gave a slight gasp, born both from the shock of her rude awakening and the nasty feeling that still fell over her as she thought about the dream shed had.

"What?" she demanded, not even sure who she was speaking to. She blinked a couple of times and found a doctor in front of her, the one she had addressed earlier about Layton. She closed her eyes and sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Sorry. I sat down and fell asleep. It's been a long night,"

"What are you doing still waiting here?" the doctor asked her.

Alex wasn't entirely sure.

"My friend is still with her fiancé," she said, realising the doctor knew neither who Robin nor Kim were so her explanation meant nothing to him, "I thought I'd wait to see if there was any news on Mister Layton while she stayed with him."

The doctor nodded.

"I had a feeling you might be waiting around for that," he said, "well, he made it. He's still breathing. He's not woken up yet but he seems to be stable. They brought him in just in time."

Alex wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She really wanted to see him sent down for what he'd done but there was a part of her that longed for him to suffer a slow and painful death. She felt horrible for thinking that.

"Right," she said quietly, adding a slightly awkward; "Well done." She wasn't sure if she was supposed to congratulate the doctor on a life saved or not. There didn't seem to be any particular etiquette about that.

"I would recommend you find your friend and take yourselves home for some proper sleep," the doctor told her, "those chairs aren't the most comfortable place to catch forty winks."

Alex had a feeling Kim wouldn't be leaving for some time but the doctor didn't need to know that.

"Right," she said, "thank you, doctor."

She got to her feet and tried to rub some of the sleep from her eyes. As she checked her watch she realised morning was approaching. Maybe she could convince Kim to at least get some breakfast. The thought of the hospital canteen wasn't exactly appealing but after the strange night they'd both had she thought it would give them both a well-needed distraction for a while.

With one final glance down the corridor she sighed and set off to find Kim. The thought of Layton on the premises sent her blood cold, but an unconscious, half-dead Layton was probably the best kind of Layton anyone was likely to encounter.

**~xXx~**

**1997**

Robin knew that sometimes a person was better off not knowing.

He was well aware that something strange had happened when he blacked out but he knew enough to realise that asking about it would only lead to more stress or worry. He was quite sure of that. Simon's overwrought response had made him feel that knowing as little as possible was the best thing so he hadn't even asked about Simon and Gene's heated exchange in CID or what Simon was trying to say after Robin first came round. It was simply best not to know. That didn't stop him from worrying though. Worrying, and wondering. As long as it meant getting both himself and Alex back to their rightful homes then he was willing to stay ignorant and work on tracing Layton instead.

He'd had some success there had been a few interesting pieces of information on the streets. The next step was getting back to the station and hoping that putting them together with both Gene and Simon's discoveries would lead them to the man himself.

His feet were aching as he trudged back to the station. He really needed a bloody car. True, he wouldn't have been able to make use of one right then seeing as he was probably at twice the legal blood alcohol limit but in general he needed a bloody car. Maybe his would suddenly find its way over from 2012? That would be useful. He wondered what kind of postage he'd have to pay to send it back in time.

He walked past a car parked outside of a shop, windows open and radio blaring. Some random DJ was busy waffling about the worst competition ever; something about winning DNA splicing kits for creating a perfect hybrid of the BeeGees and ELO. Robin was wondering whether he actually heard that right or the scotch was taking a while to get out of his system when the radio suddenly gave a loud crackle as he reached the side of the car and he jumped at the sound.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, admonishing himself for being so jumpy, but before he could move on with as much dignity as he had left another voice started to pour from the radio. The DJ seemed to have gone for now. In its place was another voice, one he knew belter maybe than any other.

_"Something's going on here, Rob. I mean, right here, right now. They just wheeled Layton in. Overdose."_

He had never felt his heart give such a wild beat before. It pumped so hard that he almost clutched his chest. His eyes closed as he whispered the name of the person to whom the voice belonged.

"_Kim," _he breathed.

He stopped still beside the car, aware that the driver was staring at him and starting to worry that he'd done something wrong. Robin could practically see the _'is there a problem officer?'_ emerging from his head. He didn't care. He was going nowhere all the time that her voice played out.

_"I've been having nightmares about that scummy twat all night. About when he shot me. Or, tried to shoot you. They… they were different."_

Her word hit him like a mallet over the head as he recalled his own nightmare during his mysterious blackout only hours before. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. The fact that they'd both had the same altered dream had delivered to him the kind of shock that he'd only ever received when he attempted to fix his X-Box at the same time that Simon was trying to water the plants and he discovered why water and electricity don't mix. He swallowed hard, waiting for more words from Kim but with a fizz and a crackle the static took over and the sound of a radio rolling through the dial like a John Cage composition brought him back to the real world. He opened his eyes and looked accusingly at the man in the car as he retuned his radio.

"Turn that back!" he cried.

The man shuddered.

"No way," he said, "bloody Lightning Seeds coming on after the ads, can't stand them."

"I need you to turn back that radio," Robin insisted frantically.

"I was only listening to it for the competition!" the driver protested, "got my own genetic laboratory set up, just waiting for a chance to snag the right DNA splicing kit!"

"It's police business," Robin told him, fishing for his ID.

The driver looked at him incredulously but he didn't want to end up spending a night in the cells for refusing an officer the chance of listening to _Sugar Coated Iceberg_ so he went back to the last station he'd been listening to and awaited Robin's response. Sure enough, Kim had been replaced by Ian Broudie and friends.

_#...I'm sinking deep, I'm going under_

_That sugar coated iceberg tastes so sweet…#_

"_Shit!"_ cursed Robin, thumping his fists on the roof of the car, his forehead following a moment later.

"My thoughts exactly," the anti-Lightning Seeds extremist agreed.

Robin breathed deeply as he leaned against the car. It wasn't fair. He'd been so close to hearing more from her but her message had been cut short, and all because of a song the driver didn't like_. Damn that bloody iceberg, sugar coated or otherwise_. He took a few moments to compose himself. He tried to reason that if he'd heard Kim on the radio and seen her on the TV then he would somehow receive another message sooner or later. For now he would have to pull himself together and get back to the station because there was a certain DCI who was going to be very interested to hear what Layton was doing in 2012.

**X**

He managed to arrive in the car park as Simon was pulling up. It was strange; they may no longer have been together but there were still moments of synchronicities and coincidences that went on between them. Despite the awkwardness that still existed there, Robin hoped those little moments showed that they would at least still be friends. He didn't want to lose that connection.

"Hey," he said quietly as he approached him. Simon knocked his head on the roof of the car, swore and cursed himself silently for showing himself up. He hoped that Robin hadn't noticed. He knew the chances were against it, but denial was a wonderful thing.

"Hi," he said, trying not to rub his thumping head, "just got back?" he asked unnecessarily.

Robin nodded.

"I'd have been back sooner if it wasn't for some twat with a phobia of the Lightning Seeds," he said.

"Did you get any information about Layton?" Simon asked.

"Not as much as I hoped," Robin sighed, "at least I've got some idea of the area he's covering. How about you?"

Simon was looking a little pale.

"Hospital gave me a lovely long list of everything that killed those people" he said, "It's just horrific, Rob, he's pumping absolute poison onto the streets." He gave a shudder. "And I really feel for the one who snorted Ajax."

Robin involuntarily rubbed his nose and flinched.

"I'm not sure I can ever stand to clean the bath again," he said.

They exchanged the briefest of smiles. It was nice; familiar, comfortable. Both looked away a little awkwardly afterwards. Neither really knew what pitch their friendship would reach, with Simon still hoping deeply for more and Robin still buried in guilt for hurting him. Eventually Robin nodded toward the station.

"We'd better go and tell Gene what we know," he began, "and find out if he got that tape."

"And make sure he survived intact," said Simon.

"I don't think even Keats could get the better of Gene," said Robin.

"I didn't mean Keats. I was thinking about the _Best of Wham_ video I found down there once."

Both shuddering from that thought, they made their way into the station and up to CID, each silent and lost in their own thoughts. As they approached Gene's office they found the blinds drawn which seemed strange.

"Maybe we should wait –" Robin began but he door opened as though it had a sensor attached to it. It was hard to know who was more surprised; Simon and Robin or Gene who was siring on the edge of his desk, a glass in his hand and his skin pale. The moment he saw them he jumped to his feet and strode to the TV where lines of static were jumping and sparking all over the place.

"Don't know what you do in two thousand and bollocks but here in the nineties there's still such a thing as _knocking,_ you know," he said crossly as he jabbed at the eject button and watched the tape slide out from the machine.

"You found the tape then?" Simon asked.

Gene held the cassette in his hand.

"Yes."

Robin waited for more information, desperate to know what Gene had seen. When he offered no details he prompted;

"Well? What did you see?"

Gene closed his eyes momentarily.

"Nothing," he said bluntly.

Simon and Robin glanced at each other then turned back to Gene.

"Nothing at _all?"_ frowned Simon.

"Nothing at all," Gene repeated.

"What happened?" frowned Robin, "couldn't you find the right one?"

Gene looked at Robin for a second, then turned away.

"The tape was blank," he mumbled his lie, "Jimbo must have swapped them over."

"Are you sure there wasn't another –" Simon began but Gene cut him off.

"Leave it, Shoebury," he said crossly, "there was nothing on the tape. It was a dead end. We'll just have to keep looking for Layton and trust Bols to get back by herself."

"But –" Robin began, stopping as he watched Gene break open the top of the cassette and pull handfuls of black tape out from within which he tore and scrunched up in his hand. The pieces of the tape tumbled from his grasp into the bin and he folded his arms. That was the last he was going to say on the matter, despite the way they both looked at him. They didn't need to know. It was bad enough that gene had to see it, he didn't want them to have to live with the knowledge too. He couldn't bring himself to look at Robin at _all_. It wasn't his job to pass that message on.

"Tape was a dud," he said firmly, "So move on. What have you got for me?" he turned to Simon. That seemed safest. "Shoebury? Did the docs cough up anything about the secret ingredient Layton's been adding to his sherbet?"

Simon reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He eyed Gene suspiciously, still unsure what to make of his reaction to the video.

"This is what they have so far," he said, "looks like he's got no qualms about bulking it up to make it go further, he's used everything from rat poison to cleaning products." He placed another file on the desk. "I checked to see if any of the post mortems have been done yet. These are the two that have been completed."

Gene took the files and began to flick though them. His expression twisted with horror, his disgust plain to see.

"Bit of plain flour not good enough any more," he commented. He glanced at Robin. "Any news from the streets, Batman?"

"There's a picture building of the area he's focussing his efforts in," he explained. He pulled a map from his coat and unfolded it. "Ive started to mark out the boundaries here. The blue dots and lines are where he's been confirmed as taking over Nailer's business, the red ones are the areas where he's _suspected_ as being involved."

"Christ, you're an even bigger geek than I remember," Gene stared over the map, "you're even colour-coding the criminal underworld!" he shook his head, "I suppose all the ink and metal in the world isn't enough to counteract the nerd in you."

"Fine, I'll take my geeky map _back_ then," Robin frowned, reaching for it but Gene grabbed it and pulled it back.

"I said it was geeky, didn't say it wasn't useful," he told him. He folded the map and tucked it into his pocket then stood up and moved to the door. "Right. Time for some _real_ information."

"Where are we going?" Robin asked as he and Simon made to follow.

"Got a snout I think might have some news for us," Gene explained, "he was a good friend of Mister Nailer himself for a while." He sighed, "until he sold us his whereabouts when we were trying to catch the bugger a couple of years ago. Don't think they've exactly been bosom buddies since then. "

"What's his name?" asked Robin.

"Everyone calls him Sniff," said Gene.

"Sniff the Snout?" Simon found the name somewhat amusing, "why 'Sniff'?"

"It's not because of a chronic case of hayfever, put it that way," Gene told them. He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and handed them to Simon. "You're driving."

Simon couldn't have been more surprised if Gene had turned green, started dancing the Macarena and announced he was leaving the force for a career in showbiz.

"You're… you're letting me drive your _car?"_ he asked incredulously, sure there was a trick at play, "the Aston Martin? The car you were threatening to fit a…. a what was it? A _butt-cheeks immobiliser_ in so that it wouldn't start if anyone but you sat in the driver's seat?"

"Forgot where I was and topped up me glass a couple of times too many," Gene said shortly, "don't feel like trashing me car today." he rolled his eyes at the smug look on Simon's face. "And anyway, I still think the butt-cheeks immobiliser is a bloody good idea."

"Better than your other security feature, playing clips of British sporting failures across the windscreen to destroy the morale of the would-be thief," Simon commented. He dangled the keys in front of Robin's face. _"I'm_ driving the Aston Martin," he said smugly.

"You'll be driving to the dole queue if you don't get a move on," Gene threatened.

"Right," Simon said awkwardly, "sorry." He hung his head a little, embarrassed by his overreaction, and slunk out of the door. Robin made to follow him but at the last minute he felt a hand on his shoulder as Gene held him back.

"Robin."

Robin frowned as he glanced behind him. Why was Gene using his real name instead of calling him Batman?

"Hmm?" he frowned.

He noticed that Gene had a strange expression on his face. He looked awkward and pained; almost _sad_ in a way. He appeared laden with things he wanted to say but just didn't know how to put them to words. He looked down and took a deep breath before finally, if awkwardly, looking Robin in the eye.

"When you go home," he began, "will you give Stringer a message from me?"

Robin frowned as a strange shudder went down his spine. This was… _weird_. This was very strange indeed.

"Uh, sure," he said, "I… can do that. What do you want me to say?"

"Tell her…" Gene hesitated. He closed his eyes for a moment. "Tell her if she ever finds herself back here…" he hesitated, "she's welcome to raid me scotch any time."

Robin stared back at Gene, his eyes full of question marks. Gene's request didn't make a lot of sense to him. Kim hadn't even been mentioned in the conversation, and since when did he voluntarily open up the offer of _scotch?_ Robin opened his mouth to probe Gene further but Gene's expression stopped him dead in that line of thought. It was so strained that Robin didn't dare press him about it. Apart from anything, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Sure," he said eventually, "I'll do that."

Gene gave a nod of thanks and walked from the office, leaving Robin's mind in a spin. His instincts told him it had to do with the shredded tape in the bin but it was impossible to know for sure. for now he had to follow the others and concentrate on the task at hand, otherwise he may never get back to pass the cryptic message on.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

He really did not feel good.

Not good at all.

As he slowly awoke everything felt weak and shaky, and here was a strong sense of nausea welling inside of him. Oh _god_, it was like every bad high and horrible comedown all at once.

Layton opened one eye. Where the fuck _was_ he? Not in his prison cell, that was for sure. The last thing he remembered… well, he remembered finally going to the stash he'd been putting aside. The pressure had been too much, the depression setting in so deeply that he needed that high. He needed to revisit that all-encompassing feeling of ecstasy to make everything else fade away for a while.

This was no all-encompassing feeling of ecstasy.

This felt like a bad package holiday with a group of DIY enthusiasts.

He tried to move. His limbs were aching and they felt like lead. He found to his horror that he could only move his left arm a short way and when he looked he realised this was down to the handcuffs that were joining him to the bed. _Shit._

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to beat down the wave of vomit that was threatening to make an escape. It wasn't just the comedown and the treatment for the overdose that was making him feel that way, it was the strange sense of déjà vu that the whole situation brought his way. This was familiar – _so_ familiar – but not necessarily to him. He thought about the charges that had been brought against him, the ones he had no memory of carrying out. All those crimes that started from when he apparently woke from his coma and escaped from the hospital – except that wasn't really him.

He had no idea that Keats had hijacked his body back then; he didn't know what had happened. All he knew was, those crimes were going to get him sent down for many years and they weren't even down to him. If he'd committed them then fair enough - but getting sent down for things he _hadn't_ done? That was the aspect of the situation that made his blood boil over.

And now here he was, waking in hospital, just like his charges alleged happened once before.

"_Hello, Arthur."_

The voice made him turn his head sharply. He hadn't realised there was anyone beside him before. Now he saw her; the doctor who was busily checking his drip.

"Back with us? Good to see that."

Layton tried to focus on her as she made a note on his chart.

"Where am I?" he grunted, "what happened?"

"Your cell mate found you choking," he doctor explained, "you took an overdose and needed help to come round."

"Where am I?" he repeated.

"Fenchurch General," the doctor told him.

Layton hesitated. Fenchurch _General?_ Not the prison hospital? Must have been really serious then, he realised. He glanced at the doorway where a uniformed officer was standing guard. _One lowly copper._ That's all he was worth.

He closed his eyes as he thought about it. All those things they said he'd done, all those crimes he had no memory of committing, and now here he was, back in the hospital, for real this time.

All those crimes. The ones he'd read about over and over but still knew nothing of. They were like a set of instructions; a step by step guide to breaking out of hospital. Shit, what was this? Poetic justice? Finally payback for all the time he'd been accused of those acts when he knew he hadn't done any such thing? If he'd already been accused of them… if he was already facing jail for them… he might as well actually _do_ them.

The glimmer of hope that filled his mind brought a far stronger high than he'd have found in a lifetime's supply of narcotics. This was his chance. Justice awaited beyond those hospital walls. Freedom was so close that he could almost taste it – and thanks to Keats's previous escape he knew exactly what to do.

Nothing was going to stop him, and for a very good reason:

Because this was fate.

_**~xXx~**_

_#...Two faces_

_Playing with my trust in you_

_You cover all your traces_

_And watch me relax with you_

_Insidious_

_Creep away and do your deal_

_Return what you think is you_

_It couldn't be further from the truth_

_(So) cruel, Keeping this a secret_

_Fool, you surely are_

_It's so You, Blind to all the damage done_

_You go too far_

_Couldn't you have told me before_

_I would have loved you, So much more_

_Couldn't you have told me before_

_Feeling like an outlaw_

_So you got some_

_You brought another person_

_Uncanny how he looks like you_

_Except there is too much he cannot do_

_It's not the problem_

_But the way you shut your mouth was real low_

_My reputation tainted_

_I will not accept being the last to know_

_(So) cruel, Keeping this a secret_

_Fool, you surely are_

_It's so You, Blind to all the damage done_

_You go too far_

_Couldn't you have told me before_

_I would have loved you, So much more_

_Couldn't you have told me before_

_Feeling like an outlaw…#_

_~ Outlaw – Olive_

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: The story climax is close now; the chapter after the next one in fact! Here's a heads up now that the climax of the story is going to be a lo-o-o-o-o-ong chapter so although the next one will probably be up tomorrow it might be a 2 or 3 days after that before the next one is complete - especially one handed! :D so a reminder now that the poll on my profile closes on Sunday night if you haven't voted yet – there's a run-away winner but there are three choices level for second place so I need tie-breakers!**_


	19. Chapter 17: What Do You Want From Me?

**Chapter Seventeen**

**1997**

It became perfectly clear within a few seconds of meeting him why he was known as Sniff the Snout. The tell-tale powdery residue around his nostrils and his constant rubbing of his nose, accompanied by sounds reminiscent of someone suffering from a nasty allergy gave Simon and Robin a thorough introduction to the man.

"Afternoon, Sniff," Gene leaned heavily against the side of the snooker table, blocking his shot. Sniff looked up at him, cue in hand.

"Do you mind?" he frowned, "I've got twenty quid riding on this."

In reply Gene reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He extracted a £20 note and threw it down on the table.

"There," he said, "let's just say you already won."

Sniff glanced from Gene to his opponent who wasn't looking pleased at their game being interrupted.

"Money's only half the prize," said Sniff, "I've got a rep to protect."

"Then I'll let you play against Shoebury when I've finished with you," said Gene, "Game'll be over in two minutes, you'll look like a bloody snooker champion."

""Hey," Simon scowled, "for all you know I might be a dab hand with a snooker cue."

Robin looked at him worriedly.

"You know how many people ended up in casualty last time you tried to play," he said.

Simon looked down, his cheeks burning up.

"I thought we agreed never to mention that again," he said.

"Fascinating as this is," Sniff elbowed Gene out of the way and began to line up his shot, "I've got a game to finish,"

Before he could strike the cue ball a gloved hand reached down and swiped it from the table. Sniff's angry eyes turned to Gene as he dropped it down the top of his trousers and said,

"Looks like the game's off, Sniff. Let's talk."

"Oh _god_," Robin closed his eyes and held his head, "too many ball jokes… can't take any more…."

"Well I'm not going to be playing again until they've decontaminated the white ball," Sniff cried in horror.

"Then it must be time for a friendly talk," Gene said, steering Sniff away from the table. He pushed him to the bar, bought him a drink, attempted to sit on a bar stool and got a cue ball in an unmentionable place. After he extracted the item from his trousers he regarded the man seriously. "Got a couple of questions for you, then you can get back to yer game," he said.

"I told you, I'm not playing until that thing's been through decontamination," Sniff eyed the ball in Gene's hand as he threw and caught it a few times.

"I see you're still powdering yer nose," Gene told him. Involuntarily Sniff rubbed at the centre of his face and twitched his nose a few times.

"So, what? You here to do a strip search?"

"Just surprised, that's all," said Gene, "sounds like a few locals have been getting more than they bargained for lately."

Sniff's expression changed. His eyes darted nervously from side to side to make sure prying eyes and ears were not on them, then he looked back at Gene.

"Yeah," he said quietly, "standard's not what it used to be."

"Any reason for that?" Gene pressed.

"I'd thought that was obvious," Sniff said awkwardly. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. "Look, the new guy, the one who's doing this patch now, he's no Nailer."

"No, he's not," Gene agreed, "He likes to add his own twist to a few classics. Why clean the bath when you can stick the scouerer up yer nose instead?"

"I've seen him before," Sniff said anxiously, "he used to hang around Nailer's business. But I always thought Nick kept him at arm's length. Never expected him to hand over his business to a twat like that."

"Who says he handed his business over?" asked Gene.

"He's got all the contacts… knows all the right people…" Sniff shrugged, "how else was he going to get that kind of information?"

"Maybe from hanging around, trying to muscle in and _being kept at arm's length?" _Robin volunteered, raising an eyebrow.

Sniff glanced at him, then back at Gene.

"Who's that?" he demanded.

"You're in the presence of comic book royalty," said Gene, "that's Batman."

Robin ignored the remark.

"How long was Layton trying to get close to Nailer's business for?" he asked.

"Layton?" Sniff repeated, "that's his name is it? Ratty guy, greasy hair, skin like sandpaper?"

"That's the one," sighed Robin.

Sniff shrugged.

"Must have been a good couple of years," he said, "I got the feeling he always wanted to play with the big boys but never lived up to the standard.

"It's hard to think of _any_ standards Layton would live up to," Gene commented.

Sniff scratched his nose.

"Look," he began, "all I know about the guy is that he tried to get close to Nailer and now suddenly he;s taking over his business and supplying all his usual dealers. He's stepped right in, like dead man's boots. Looked like Nailer put him in charge. That's the way it seems from the street."

"Sounds like Layton did his homework and found out enough to convince the world he was Nailer's right hand man," Simon commented, "sneaky bugger."

"Yeah, except he's not smart enough to follow Nailer's style too," said Sniff. "People who've bought from the same dealers for years are too scared to take a hit now because they never know what they'll get. Nailer's stuff was clean, maybe not _pure_, but never cut with anything that…" he flinched even thinking about it, "anything that's supposed to get your bath whiter than white."

"The addicts are ditching Nailer's old network?" asked Robin.

"They're going elsewhere for their party bags," Sniff nodded, "but this… _Layton_ is spreading his wings too. Taking it over, bit by bit."

"Not for much longer if we can help it," said Robin.

"So," Gene leaned closer , spinning the white ball on the bar, "whose stuff are you sticking up yer big red conk at the moment?"

Sniff lived up to his name with a revolting sound emerging from his nostrils.

"Saw this coming," he said, "it pays to stockpile."

"Do you know where Layton's based?" Robin asked, "has he taken over one of Nailer's premises? Is there one particular place he's receiving or distributing the stuff?"

"I'm staying well away from the scene right now," sniff shook his head, "I don't know and I don't _want_ to know."

"And when your stockpile runs out?" asked Simon.

Sniff shrugged.

"Field trip," he said.

Simon had to admit he was fairly amused by the idea of a coachload of addicts going on a field trip to find a new dealer. Gene on the other hand could see that Sniff wasn't going to offer them with the specifics he needed so it was time to move on.

"Well, thank you for your time," he said, "I had a ball." He placed his snooker-related haul on a beer mat in the hope that it would stop it from rolling away and got to his feet. "If you find out where mister Layton's rat hole might be located you know where to find me."

He turned and began to walk from the pub with Simon and Robin in tow. It seemed Layton had been a crafty little arsehole indeed but with addicts seeking new sources for their goodies it looked like his new business may well be short-lived. It was time to strike before it crumbled away beneath him – just like his empire from '_back in the day'._

**~xXx~**

**2012**

He watched and waited for the opportunity to present itself. He knew it wouldn't be far away. This was his time, his luck, his destiny. Sooner or later he was going to find his way out. He had never expected that his chance would be handed to him on a plate by the wave of nausea that he'd been fighting back for an hour or more.

Layton swallowed as it rose again. He knew that it was becoming harder to fight and he wasn't going to be able to keep it at bay forever. He reached out and squeezed the alarm call button beside him and a moment later a nurse came rushing into the room.

"How are you doing, Arthur?" she asked.

"_Feel sick,"_ Layton gasped between deep breaths.

"That's to be expected," the nurse told him, "We can give you an anti-emetic to stop the nausea if you want?"

"Yes," Layton nodded quickly, swallowing and closing his eyes.

"Alright, I'll be right back," the nurse told him. She left in pursuit of the injection and a few moments later she returned with a needle. "Here," she said, this'll soon help you feel better."

Layton tried to control his breathing as she walked towards him and aimed the needle for the port on his cannula. _Just a few moments more,_ he told himself, _just a few more seconds. Just wait… Just hold it back –_

But suddenly he couldn't hold it back any longer and a horrible, intense sick feeling rose up like a tidal wave inside of him. He turned and vomited across his smock and his arm on the cuffed side, coughing and spluttering as he did so.

"It's OK, it's OK," the nurse assured him, "it doesn't matter, we'll soon get you cleaned up –"

She laid the needle on the trolley beside him as she glanced around. There was a clean smock in the chair and she knew clean sheets were just outside. She looked at his cuffed hand and knew that this was going to be one of the more complicated bed changes she'd ever had to endure. With a sigh she approached the officer at the door who was looking slightly queasy himself from the scene behind him and asked him discretely to undo Layton's handcuffs while she changed his bed and clothes. The officer looked less than pleased about the idea, fully aware that for safety's sake he was going to have to fasten the bed end of the cuffs to himself. Being attached to Arthur Layton was bad enough, but a _pukey_ Arthur Layton? He wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve that horror.

Layton's eyes turned to his right hand side. He slipped his hand surreptitiously from under the covers and reached toward the trolley. There it was; his key, his escape route. It was just an inch away. He stretched a little further, as far as his cuffs would allow. _Almost there… Almost… so close…_With one final push, there it was in his grasp. He held the needle tightly and bought his hand back into bed, hiding it beneath the covers as quick as a flash. His heart was pounding and he couldn't stop shaking.

His eyes darted anxiously to the officer as he approached him with a sigh, key in hand.

"Must have done something rotten in a previous life to end up babysitting you tonight, Layton," He said as he unfastened the cuffs from the bed. He prepared to fasten them to his own wrist, flinching at the smell of the rancid vomit, but before he could complete the action he found Layton adopting a burst of energy as he grasped the needle firmly in his right hand and aimed it through the air at the officer's throat. He plunged it in hard, as hard as he could manage, as far as it would go. The look of pain and fear on the officer's face was immediate and Layton took that as his cue to leave before he outstayed his welcome. He heard beeping as the nurse hit an alarm and knew that his time was limited. He had to pull together all the strength he had left in his ailing body and make his way out of the hospital while he still had a chance.

Pushing the gasping, desperate officer to the floor he scrambled unsteadily out of the bed and out of the room, moving as fast as he was able. This was _it. _This was his chance. The charges that had been set to put him away gave him the answer to his freedom. It was about time luck was on his side.

~xXx~

1997

"Exactly where are we and what are we doing here?"

Victoria wasn't sure a life on the run was right for her, but it was certainly less traumatic than working for Keats. Nailer was the first person to make her feel safe in… well, as far back as she could remember. She watched him peering out the window into the dusty yard where trucks baring the name _Carter's Logistics_ lined up side by side.

"I need to talk to a mate of mine," Nailer explained.

"What about?"

"Well, first of all to make sure he _is_ still a mate," said Nailer, "and secondly to find out what he knows about Layton."

Victoria looked on in horror as he pulled out and checked his gun.

"Oh my _god!_ Now there are _firearms_ involved?" she cried.

"_One_ firearm," Nailer corrrected, "And as long as we're still cool it won't _be_ involved." He smiled amiably and stepped out of the car.

Victoria sank down in the front seat to stay out of view.

"_Damn_ this," she mumbled, "how the hell does he make everything sound so bloody reasonable?" she slapped her forehead and gave a deep sigh. No wonder he'd been so good at evading the authorities for so long.

**X**

"Well, fancy seeing _you_ here."

The last thing Andrew Carter expected to see was a smiling Nick Nailer looming large behind him. He visibly jumped and gave a gasp of shock, breathing heavily.

"Oh _shit,"_ he cried, "don't _do_ that! If you're going to make a break for it you could at least warn someone!" he closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath. "What the hell are you doing here? And how did you get out?"

"Friends in high places," Nailer told him, "speaking of which, I'm here to make sure you're still one of them."

"What do you mean?" Carter frowned.

"Arthur Layton," Nailer said simply.

Carter's expression darkened in an instant.

"What about the pig-brained arsehole?" he asked.

Nailer raised an eyebrow.

"Sounds like you're still on my Christmas card list," he said, putting his gun away.

Carter sank onto a chair at one side of the room.

"What exactly are you trying to ask me?" he demanded.

"I needed to make sure the weasel hadn't managed to drag you under too," Nailer explained, "He's been sinking my ships with his tainted shit."

"I would become a beard model than stick _his_ shit in my arm," Carter told him.

Nailer nodded.

"So who are you shipping to these days?" he asked.

"Doing the whole bit myself," said Carter, "Only as a bit on the side, mind. Couldn't keep all the cogs running the way you did. Just a nice little extra. Pays the child maintenance anyway," he joked.

"Yeah, right," Nailer laughed, "like anyone let you get close enough to procreate."

"I'm going up in the world, mate," Carter told him, "just watch. A year from now they'll be queuing up round the corner."

Nailer smiled, then his expression grew serious as he looked at Carter and asked,

"So who's Layton got on his side then? Where's he buying from? Who's been stupid enough to fall for his patter?"

Carter sighed.

"George Mason, _that's_ a big one," he said, "never did have two brain cells to rub together. Must be getting a new shipment in tonight. "

"Where's he shipping to?" asked Nailer, "the usual place, or -?"

Carter shook his head.

"Moved it to his own spot," he explained, "some place he's worked before I think."

"Couldn't find me the details could you?" Nailer asked.

"If you promise not to give me any more bloody heart attacks," said Carter.

Nailer nodded as he watched him stand to fetch a pen and some paper to write down the location of Nailer's upcoming rendezvous. Mister Layton was going to discover that there are some people you just shouldn't mess with – and for his part, Nailer was _really_ going to enjoy this.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

The hospital canteen never failed to deliver.

If you were hoping to buy the most disgusting food abominations in the universe, that is.

"Ugh, Ma'am, why did I let you talk me into this?" Kim asked as she stared at something that had been generically labelled _'cereal'_. In honesty, it could have been anything. Kim remembered when she had a hamster as a child. The cereal seemed to resemble the stuff she would clean out of the cage once a week.

"You have to keep your strength up," Alex lectured, "I can see you staying here all day and god knows when else you'll eat."

"_Keep my bloody strength up._ That's all I'v heard since I cracked my bloody ribs," Kim complained.

Alex couldn't help smiling. For all she had been through and all she had matured, sometimes Kim still seemed like that moody young lady who arrived in Fenchurch East circa 1995.

"Someone needs to look after you without Robin around," Alex pointed out.

"More like you're getting some mothering practice in," Kim smiled.

Alex laughed gently as she leaned back and lifted the half-stale croissant she really didn't want to eat.

"Maybe a bit of both," she admitted.

Kim decided to forget the cereal and go for a chocolate bar instead.

"Sod this," she mumbled, biting into her Mars bar.

"That's not very nutritious," Alex pointed out.

"Neither were the chocolate biscuits you were putting away last night," Kim countered with a raised eyebrow.

"_Touché_," Alex smiled.

Kim sighed as she felt her eyelids growing heavy.

"You know, you can go home, Ma'am," she said, "I'll be fine. I might try to get some sleep. Poach one of the comfy chairs from the relatives' room and take it into Rob's room."

"That's alright," said Alex, "I don't want to abandon you. Besides," she pulled a face and put down the croissant, "I can hardly _wait_ to see what they serve for lunch."

With a gag and a splutter Kim was about to speculate about what that might be but before she had a chance the sound of a distant alarm and some shouting caught her attention.

"What the hell is that?" she muttered, exchanging a glance with Alex.

"I don't –" Alex began as she caught sight of a security guard rushing by outside. Somewhere nearby a siren started to wail, and deep in the pit of her stomach Alex knew – somehow she just _knew_. "Layton," she whispered.

"What?" frowned Kim.

Alex didn't have time to explain. She got to her feet and beckoned Kim to follow her, rushing as fast as she could down the corridor in the direction of ICU. The closer they came to the unit, the more guards, doctors and officers they found.

"_Shit," _Kim muttered, "I think you might be right." She had her ID with her and approached a guard with it. "Can you tell us what's going on?" she asked.

The guard looked flustered.

"I don't know exactly," he said, "there was a prisoner from HMP Fenchurch brought in this morning. It seems he overpowered his guard and – somehow…" he shook his head and sighed as he stared at the exit.

"Shit," Kim cursed, closing her eyes. She turned to Alex whose eyes were wide as she waited expectantly. All Kim had to do was nod.

A shiver ran through Alex's body. She closed her eyes for a moment and let it wash over her. She had a very strange feeling that this was _it_. Somehow fate had lined up all the pawns and now the time had come to move them forward.

"_This is it,"_ she whispered.

Quite suddenly the air felt alive. _Electric_. Full of promise. As she stared at Kim she knew that worlds were drawing close together once again. The pathway home was clearing for her. All she had to do was allow Arthur Layton to lead her there in whatever way destiny demanded.

**~xXx~**

**1997**

Filing through the doorway of Gene's office one at a time, Gene, Robin and Simon contemplated all they'd discovered about Layton and his take-over attempt so far. The drive back had been fairly quiet with a lot of contemplation. All three of them agreed that getting Layton out of the business ASAP was paramount, but how it was going to help Alex get home no one could say for certain and that was the part that Gene was most concerned with.

As he threw his coat onto the side of his desk, he took a step backward and declared, with some alarm,

"Simon, why the buggering hell is me phone flashing at me?"

Simon glanced at the new machine the station had installed not long ago. Gene hadn't been very pleased, nor impressed, with the new addition to his office.

"That's voicemail," Simon said

"I don't care if it's male, female or talking turkey, what the _hell_ is it flashing at me for?"

Simon closed his eyes briefly.

"Sorry," he said, realising voicemail was a far more modern term than he'd thought, "it's a message, You've got a message on your answerphone."

"I've got an _answerphone?" _Gene scowled.

"Well, yes," frowned Simon, "what did you think that bloody great lump was attached to your new phone?"

Gene shrugged and looked a bit award.

"Games console?" he guessed.

"Not quite," sighed Simon.

Gene stared at the flashing red light again.

"Shoebury, you'd better tell me how to stop this thing flashing at me before my office is mistaken for a knocking shop."

"Try playing your message?" sighed Simon.

"And how would I go about doing that?" Gene asked

"The play button is a good place to start," Simon pointed out. He leaned forward and took the liberty of pressing it himself since the whole saga looked to be turning into the telecommunication version of _There's a Hole in my Bucket_. Gene folded his arms and listened as the message started to play.

"_I hear you've been asking around after Arthur Layton,"_ – the start of the message made all three of them freeze and listen. They looked at one another, almost holding their breath, _"well, you're not the only one. He's a dangerous one. He doesn't give a fuck. We've got people dropping like flies. This is no… way down the line, cutting shit. He's putting this in right at the top and he's screwing people over in every other way you can imagine. I fell for it the first time. Won't be happening again. If you want to stick his head on a spike I suggest you get down to Trinity Buoy Wharf. Midnight's his favourite time. Get him out of the loop – no one's going to miss that worm, not from your side nor mine."_

There was silence as the message ended. Finally Robin bit his lip and asked,

"What… do you reckon the chances are of that being legit?"

Gene stared at the phone.

"With Arthur Layton's _incredible_ popularity… I wouldn't rule it out," he said.

"Couldn't he have at least identified himself?" Simon asked.

"Shoebury, it's an anonymous tip-off," Gene pointed out, "not identifying himself is a large part of the process.

"Why does Trinity Buoy Wharf sound so familiar?" Robin pondered. He looked at Gene, "Where's my map."

"You mean yer map of geek?" asked Gene.

"Yes,_ that _one," Robin conceded.

Gene took his coat from the desk anf began to rummage through the pockets until he found it and handed it back.

"One map of geek, colour coded for your viewing pleasure," he said.

Robin ignored the remark and unfolded the map. His eyes scanned along the river until he found what he was looking for and his heart sank.

"Oh _no,"_ he whispered.

Simon's anxiety peaked with those two quiet words.

"What?" he demanded.

"The barge," Robin explained quietly, "that's where the barge is… or at least, where the barge _will_ be."

Gene's blood turned icy cold.

"Barge?" he repeated.

Robin nodded, his eyes cast downward.

"It's where he took Alex when he shot her," Robin explained.

Gene felt sick inside.

"I know," he said.

"And Keats used Layton's memories to take me and Kim hostage there," Robin said, his voice shaking slightly.

Gene took back the map and folded it carefully. He placed it back in his coat pocket before he regarded the other two men seriously.

"Suddenly our anonymous friend seems to have doubled his credibility," he said. "Gentlemen, you are cordially invited for _An Evening With Arthur Layton_; binoculars and scotch provided, please bring your own light snacks and other beverages of choice." His expression was stern and serious. He knew this was it. Time for showdown. "Go on, piss off – empty yer bladders, fill yet stomachs and be back here at eight." Robin and Simon nodded silently and began to move towards the door until Gene called one of them back with a call of,_ "Shoebury?"_

Simon hesitated.

"What now?"

Gene pointed to his phone.

"Now I'm in the bloody red light district _all_ the time," he said, pointing to the light that was no longer flashing and instead was emitting a static red glow.

"That's because you've got a message but it's not a new one," said Simon.

"So make it go away," Gene told him.

"You just have to rewind and press erase," said Simon.

"How does that happen?" Gene asked.

Simon rolled his eyes.

"For god's sake, try looking at the phone – or better yet, the instructions."

"You appear to be mistaking me for a man who presses buttons and knows how things 'work'," Gene informed him, "My job is to wear cowboy boots and look threatening. Yours is to handle the electrics."

"Electronics," Simon corrected.

"We're back to my X-Box and the plant-watering again," Robin muttered under his breath. He watched as Simon erased the message and stepped back with a slight flourish to indicate the light was no longer on.

"There," he said, "no more red light."

"And if it comes back?"

Simon groaned and marched to the door.

"Then try yelling at it," he said crossly, "that's how you usually deal with things, isn't it?"

"No need for the sarcasm, Simon," said Gene, "Anyone would think I got where I am today by shouting and throwing people against the office furniture."

Simon narrowed his eyes at Gene for a moment and shook his head.

"Come on," he muttered to Robin before he left the office, unaware that Gene was slightly smirking behind his back. After a day like he'd had, Gene felt he deserved some light entertainment – and winding Simon up usually managed to fit the bill.

~xXx~

One pair of prying eyes watched from a safe distance as Simon and Robin left the station together and began the short walk down the road to Simon's flat. He stayed hidden, sheltering in his car, blocking the view of his face with a magazine as they passed him by in sweet ignorance. With the window open a crack he could just about make out a small snippet of conversation.

"_- been on a stakeout with Gene before?"_

That was Robin's voice. Even if he hadn't recognised it consciously he would have realised as soon as he felt his blood starting to boil over.

"_A few times,"_ he heard Simon's voice reply, _"if you're looking for tips then my advice is to bring air freshener and ear plugs and never mention squirrel costumes."_

"_What?"_

"_Long story."_

As the pair passed beyond earshot he laid down his magazine and turned around to eye them from the rear window of the car. He felt a surge of darkness travelling through him again and gripped the seat as he breathed heavily. He'd been so happy to absorb all the darkness that the world would allow, for all that time, but this new turn of events was a step too far and he knew it. He'd been out of control earlier. The dark energy was controlling him instead of the other way around. It was time to fight that. He needed to get it back under control again and the only way to do that was to cut it off at the source.

He looked back out of the window. Robin and Simon had reached the door of the flat by now and Simon was looking for his key.

"You've got to go," he hissed, aiming his fingers at Robin like a gun and lining him up in his imaginary shot, "I can't say as I'll be terribly saddened by your loss."

A stakeout. That sounded ideal. Why not add one more bit of chaos to a night that would probably contain more action than Gene's entire collection of westerns? Play his cards right, he could get away from it scot free. Stray bullets can come out of nowhere every now and then, after all..

He turned back to the dashboard and started the engine of the car. It was time for a stakeout of his own. Jim Keats was going to get a handle on that energy that night. He was certain of it.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

"Where are we going?"

Once Layton's escape had been confirmed Alex had been surprised by Kim's swift burst of action. Surprised but, she had to admit, _impressed_. She had never seen _DI Kim Stringer_ at work before. Her fast thinking and direct action were something of a revelation. The potential had always been there; Alex remembered moments from the nineties where Kim had shown resourcefulness and strength, but now she had the maturity and the drive to deliver.

However, her surprisingly impressive pace was not really compatible with a tired Alex and a heavy bump.

"We're going to the station," Kim told her.

"The station? Why?"

"This lot can go round in circles watching the same footage again and again but someone's got to get out there," Kim told her. She led Alex through the hospital car park and to the taxi rank beyond, "we'll pick up a car from the car pool. I'll speak to some people, get the latest news. We won't have to hear everything second-hand."

"Pick up a car – you're not allowed to drive yet," Alex began but Kim shook her head.

"Sod the ribs, this is _important_," she said.

As they climbed into a taxi and Kim used her ID to assure the driver he had permission to drive as fast as he liked – or, as the driver put it rather dramatically, _"Can I break the motherfucking speed limit_?" – she and Alex both mentally went over the events of the last half an hour or so.

They had been quickly absorbed into the mass of coppers and security as they established that Layton was no longer on the premises. They'd watched the CCTV footage with some horror as Layton fled from a fire exit, overpowered a doctor, took his clothes and car and fled the scene. While descriptions of the car and Layton himself had gone out quickly they knew he'd be dumping the car and clothes as soon as he could to replace them with something new to keep hidden and out of sight.

"What the hell is he going to do?" Alex hissed, "where's he going to go?"

"Well, he's got no friends," Kim pointed out, "no one to help him out. Either he'll turn to someone he has some dirt on for bribery to get the money he needs to disappear, or…"

Alex waited for her to finish.

"Or what?"

Kim could quite imagine the crazed, weakened, desperate Layton simply heading on a frantic rampage.

"It doesn't bear thinking about," she said quietly.

Alex looked at Kim seriously.

"He could go after people he knows," she said, "maybe people involved in the charges he's facing."

"Is that a tactful way of saying you and me?" Kim asked nervously.

Alex bit her lip.

"Not just us," she said, "What else did Keats do when he…" she glanced at the taxi driver. She realised she probably shouldn't finish that sentence. "You know."

Kim closed her eyes.

"Well, he paid Evan a 'visit'," she said, "he's probably in the safest place, in prison."

"What about Molly?" Alex felt a sudden panic wash over her.

Kim swallowed.

"While I organise things for us, you call her foster mother. I'll get an officer sent to their house for protection immediately." She closed her eyes as she realised something. "Shit, _Robin_… He could go after him. He's a sitting duck in hospital."

"He wouldn't go back there, surely," Alex frowned, "Wouldn't that be too risky?"

"He's not thinking straight," Kim said anxiously, "the charges… the things Keats did… he knows Robin's one of the main witnesses, he might decide it's worth the rtisk to pull the plug. _Shit,"_

"We'll call the hospital, increase security," Alex assured her.

Kim breathed in deeply.

"What a fucking mess," she whispered.

A silent look between them spoke of something so much deeper than any of the words they had exchanged. Something was building in the air. The anticipation was so strong and thick they could almost grasp it in their fingers.

The moment was coming.

~xXx~

_Same old, same old._

Some things never changed.

There were certain street corners that Layton knew only too well. Once upon a time he'd been the one supplying the goods on that street. Then for very many years he'd been purchasing them.

He knew after what had happened the night before that this was not a good idea, but he had little to lose. His body was crying out for more. He wanted something… _needed_ it… just a little. He wouldn't go overboard this time. He'd misjudged what he could take. This time he would limit himself, just enough to help him function, just enough to help him think more clearly. Just enough to give him a plan of action.

The daylight was still dim as he approached the figure. He must have bought from that dealer at least once a week for years, and yet the look of contempt on the man's face as Layton approached wasn't akin to someone who was about to greet a valued customer.

"You've got some nerve," he hissed.

Layton stared at him.

"I just need something," he said, "don't need much."

"You need a fucking bullet in the head," the dealer told him, moving away, "after everything you've done."

"That wasn't me!" Layton protested he was aware how childish and pathetic that sounded but it was the first thing that came to mind, "I know what they say I did but –"

"You want to watch yourself on the streets," the dealer hissed, "they're baying for your blood."

He turned to walk away but Layton needed the stuff. He needed what this guy had.

"Look, I've got…" he reached for the wallet he'd found in the doctor's pocket and looked inside, "I've got forty… _fifty_ quid-"

"Don't you understand?" the dealer hissed over his shoulder, "your money is worth shit. Fuck off and die."

"I almost did," Layton hissed as he ran after the dealer and placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him from leaving without selling him what he wanted but the dealer wasn't having any of that. He spun around and knocked Layton backwards with a punch.

"You're _dead_, Layton," The dealer hissed, "you took out some of Nailer's _favourites_. The streets are not going to welcome you back."

Layton was well aware of what he'd been 'alleged' to have done. The attacks and muggings on the dealers that made up some of his charges were things he had no recall of and knew he hadn't done. But since he was already going down for them –

"No harm in adding one more then," he spat, bouncing back with impressive speed, throwing a punch at the dealer and following it up with a foot in the guts. He was running out of strength and energy, his body still struggling from the overdose, but he wasn't going to let the damn man get away with the accusations he'd been making. If he was going to be accused of assaulting dealers on the street then he might was well make it real.

Stamping on the man's ribcage and listening to him howl in pain, he quickly grabbed what he could, despite the dealer's best attempts to protect both the goods and his money. Moments later Layton absconded with a handful of cash and a nice little treat for his veins, leaving coughing, spluttering flesh and bones behind in a pool of blood.

_Where now?_ He tried to work out what to do as he rushed back to the car he'd stolen and climbed inside, his hands trembling and his vision starting to cloud over. He knew he couldn't go far – he needed a place to hide, to shoot up and to collect his thoughts. There was one location that came to mind. One place that he knew would be empty, deserted and offer him the time and shelter he needed. Like a homing pigeon returning to the coup he started the car and began to drive.

The river awaited with its decrepit shelter alongside it.

**~xXx~**

Worlds drew close together.

Figures moved in the same direction. Energy began to build and grow.

This was it.

"_Home time,"_ whispered Alex.

**~xXx~**

_There is one thing that I would die for_

_It's when you say: "My life is in your hands"_

_'Cause when you're near me your love is all I need_

_Now I can't imagine_

_What do you want from me_

_It's not how it used to be_

_You've taken my life away_

_Ruining everything_

_What do you want from me _

_It's not how it used to be _

_You've taken my life away _

_Ruining everything _

_Give me something I can rely on_

_Far away from the life that I once knew_

_What does it matter, that's all I have to say_

_And I can't imagine_

_What do you want from me_

_It's not how it used to be_

_You've taken my life away_

_Ruining everything_

_What do you want from me_

_It's not how it used to be_

_You've taken my life away_

_Ruining everything_

_~ What Do You Want From me? – Monaco_

**~xXx~**

_**A/N: The next chapter may take a few days to finish as the story reaches its climax (not its end though, there's going to be a lot still to sort out afterwards!) because it's going to be a very long chapter for which I apologise in advance! Hoping to post the next chapter on Monday at the latest x**_


	20. Chapter 18: The Drugs Don't Work

_**A/N: Tissue Warning! In fact, I'm issuing a tissue warning to all (ten-ish) remaining chapters of this fic. I'm going to buy bloody shares in Kleenex. That's what I get for planning out stories under the influence of bloody pregnancy hormones. The baby may have arrived but the tissue warnings remain!**_

_**Anyway, here it is, a bit earlier than I expected – sorry the chapter is so long, feel free to take a tea break mid-way :D **_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter Eighteen**

**2012**

"Stringer, you're supposed to be on sick leave for at least one more week; your ribs are clearly still giving you trouble and you're too emotionally involved." DCI Huston couldn't have been more surprised to see Kim arrive in CID, _especially_ when she arrived asking for a car and a gun. "I can't let you out on the street searching for Layton."

"You're not 'letting' me," said Kim, "that's a decision I made myself."

"DI Stringer –"

"Listen," Kim said urgently, "what brought me back to the force anyway?" she paused and watched him look at her blankly. "It was tracking down Layton with Alex and Robin." She closed her eyes, "I mean, _DI Drake_ and _Chief Inspector Thomas. _It showed me it was still in my blood. I learned more about Layton than the rest of this department put together trying to track him down. So did DI Drake. If _anyone's_ going to be able to find him, don't you think we have a better chance than most?"

DCI Huston stared at Kim. He tried to glare. He tried to tell her he didn't like her attitude, but that would have been a lie. She had _exactly_ the attitude they needed for finding the bastard. That was the attitude that had people chasing her for fast track schemes and the like. Eventually he conceded.

"Alright," he said, "do what you have to. But you are to check in regularly, and if there's any sign of him you call for back up. Agreed?"

Kim nodded. She wasn't sure about calling for back-up but Huston didn't have to know that.

"Thank you, sir," she said. His permission wouldn't have made any difference to her anyway. Nothing was going to stop her from pursuing Layton with Alex.

It felt strange to be back in CID after spending so much time in hospitals, as a patient and as a visitor. She had almost forgotten the buzz that went through her veins from being there. But there was a _different_ buzz filling her body as she checked her gun and made sure her radio was functioning correctly. There was a strange feeling in the air and it was growing stronger all the time. Things were moving. Kim couldn't begin to guess what the outcome of the search would be – with two people desperate to swap sides of the line between life and death and with Layton the central theme anything was possible.

"You can run but you can't hide," she mumbled to herself as she prepared to meet Alex to begin their search. Arthur Layton was a rat who needed capture – with any luck he'd have left them a trail of droppings to follow.

**~xXx~**

**1997**

"This just feels really surreal," Robin said quietly as he sat in the back of Gene's Aston Martin. He immediately regretted saying that. He hadn't meant to speak out loud. It was just a throwaway thought and now he'd committed himself to expanding upon it. He could see from Gene's expression that he wasn't going to let that one pass.

"You mean he experience of spending yer evening in a car with this level of class?" he asked.

Robin closed his eyes and sighed.

"I wasn't talking about the car," he said,

"How can you _not_ talk about the car?" Gene challenged, "the paintwork's perfect, when I get Bolly back she'll be able to make her face up in that. The interior's spotless and so comfortable me backside has been thanking me ever since I bought it. Steers like a dream. And I'm on the verge of purchasing my dream pair of furry dice." He looked at Robin in the rear view mirror. "I _know_ you didn't mean the car, Batman. Spill it. What did you mean?"

Robin rubbed his forehead and leaned back, staring out of the widow as he did so.

"Sometimes I have trouble understanding the fact that I'm back over here," he said quietly, "it… it feels weird. And then there's all the stuff that goes on here…" he glanced at Gene. "I was going to tell you… but then there was Sniff the Snout and the cue ball and…"

"Tell me what?" Gene asked.

"I heard something when I was coming back to the station," Robin said quietly, "after finding out what I could on the streets."

"This had better not be a guessing game," said Gene, pulling out his flask. He'd had the good sense to refill it before the stakeout began but he was starting to wish that he'd brought a full bottle along. They'd only been there an hour and already Simon had made fourteen attempts at playing _I-Spy._ Gene wasn't sure he could survive attempt number fifteen, especially not if it was 'river' again.

"There was a radio blaring out of a car," Robin explained, "and I heard something from home." He paused, "from Kim."

He was aware of the dark expression that Simon took on. He could see it glimpsed in the rear view mirror. He tried to ignore that. The message was important.

"I take it Stringer wasn't informing you she'd had her brain pierced?" Gene commented.

Robin bit his lip.

"We're not the only ones on Layton's case right now," he said, "I heard her say he'd been taken to hospital after taking an overdose."

Gene lifted his flask.

"Couldn't happen to a nicer man," he said, the images of Layton firing the bullet into Alex's head still fresh in his mind. He shuddered as he took a swig. In honesty he wished he'd never watched the tape. He didn't know how he was ever going to forget what he'd seen.

"Something's happening," Robin's voice was barely above a whisper, "isn't it?" he looked at Gene, desperate for him to give his suspicions a foundation. "Something's happening tonight.

Gene carried on staring out of the window.

"Let's see what midnight brings, "he said.

Simon glanced around to the back seat. He caught a glimpse of Robin then looked away again. If something was 'happening' that night there was no way of knowing for certain which way things were going to go. Was Alex coming back - or was Robin going home? The thought of losing him again pulled darkly at his soul.

They fell silent for some time and watched, waited, anticipated what was coming. There was no way of knowing what lay ahead but the buzz in the air couldn't be denied.

~xXx~

The car pulled up a safe distance away.

"I don't know why we have to get here so early," Nailer complained, "we're going to be sitting here for hours."

"You've never been on a stakeout before, have you?" sighed Victoria.

"Well, no," said Nailer, "I'm not on the right side of the law for that."

Victoria tried not to smile. She tried not to allow herself to acknowledge that she was warming to him more and more as the day had gone on. After her desperate exit from Fenchurch West she had spent most of the day trying to come to terms with what she had done; abandoning the good side of the law for a life she could never have imagined wanting to pursue. All her life she had wanted to do the right thing; she had wanted to bring truth and justice to the world, and as a child she'd had a highly idealised image in her mind of the law and of keeping the streets free from those who wished to do harm to others.

Reality had not lived up to her childhood dreams.

In truth, Victoria found her memory gaps disturbing. She remembered little if anything prior to joining Fenchurch West. How had she reached the post of DI? She didn't know. She couldn't remember where she worked before, nor anything about her career. The first thing she really remembered was being involved in a car crash and Keats sweet-talking her into working for his station. The sweet talking didn't last for long.

Now as she sat in the car with a wanted escapee beside her she couldn't imagine how Keats had managed to trap her in that place for so long, for all those months. more than a year and a half of that nightmare had passed by before she managed to break free. That wasn't like her. she used to be strong. Why had she let him keep her fight buried for so long?

Nick Nailer was not like other ne'er-do-wells. He was a strange case, she thought as she watched him carefully. He was such a powerful name on the streets and yet he had a set of morals that most people on the _right_ side of the law could never hope to live by. she couldn't make him out. All she knew was that he'd offered her an escape. She was going to take it and run with it. Helping him get Layton away from his old business was the least she could do – especially since his tainted drugs were in danger of wiping out half the city.

"Mister Nailer," she began, "Not that I mean to pry but… I think I need to know your plans when Layton arrives.

"Might be best if you don't know," Nailer told her, and she frowned.

"That's what I was worried you'd say," she mumbled.

Nailer looked at her seriously.

"Just one act, one night," he said, "and then it's over. For both you and me. Time for a new start somewhere else. Somewhere your friend Keats and his grubby fingers can't bother you any more. Somewhere I don't have to worry about business dealings or shipments going astray or getting double crossed or winding up with a knife in my back. Fresh start, Vicky. Don't get many chances for those."

Victoria allowed herself one brief smile as his words sank in. She was getting away from it, away from _everything;_ away from her shitty excuse for a life and a job. Sometimes exits come in an unexpected way – and whatever Nailer had done in the past he was offering her another chance in life. For that she would always be grateful.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

"It's not exactly the Fiat but it will do," Kim let Alex into the car she'd borrowed, "it was quicker doing it this way than going home and getting it, anyway."

Alex felt a buzz travelling through her as she climbed into the passenger seat. How long had it been since she'd done any work? How long gad it been since she'd been able to do the job she thrived on. It was one of the reasons that she and Gene were so close – the job meant as much to each as it did to the other. Neither ever felt pushed out by its importance – they shared the same view and the same passion for their work. The same passion that she felt sparking inside of her right then.

"Did your DCI give you any trouble?" she asked.

"Nothing that's stopped me getting a car, a gun and a radio," Kim pointed out.

"True," Alex smiled dryly.

Before Kim could even start the car the radio crackled into life. She glanced at Alex, almost nervously.

"Go ahead," she said and awaited news.

It was DS Fullerton's voice that came over the speaker.

"_Call from the public about an IC-one male, mugged near the recreation ground. He was taken to hospital… turns out… he's a known dealer. And one of Nailer's old friends."_

Kim glanced at Alex, biting on her lip.

"Shit, is that a coincidence?"

Alex's eyes were laden with emotion.

"I don't think I believe in those any more," she said.

Kim looked down. Neither did she.

"Anything to link the attack with Layton?" she asked.

"_One witness gave a description of a man fleeing the area shortly after the mugging occurred,"_ Fullerton told her, "_sounds a lot like Layton."_

"The recreation ground" Alex said quietly, "That's not far from –" she flinched. It hurt even thinking about it. She didn't want to finish that sentence. Luckily Kim had a feeling she knew what Alex was trying to say.

"The barge?" she whispered. The look in Alex's eye confirmed it. She closed her eyes for a moment then asked the DS, "What direction was he heading in?"

"_West."_ Said Fullerton.

Kim bit her lip.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"_The search is focusing around East India dock,"_ Fullerton told her, _"if you want to get over there –"_

Kim took a deep breath. She knew that was not where Layton was heading.

"Thanks," she said.

"East India?" Alex repeated.

Kim shook her head.

"We both know that's not where he's heading," she said quietly, "we'll do this alone."

Alex nodded. She agreed completely.

"Let's do it," she whispered."

With the starting of the engine, a wave of energy travelled through Alex and Kim. Somehow it felt like the final leg of a journey and now their fight was almost at an end. But with a pang of sadness they couldn't help but feel their time together and the friendship they'd shared was over too. With one last glance between them and a wobbly smile Kim pulled out of the car park. They were almost there now.

"Come on, Ma'am," Kim said quietly, "let's get you home."

**~xXx~**

**1997**

Keats twitched and shuddered as he sat in the car in the middle of the darkness. _Staking out the stakeout._ That's what he was doing. He couldn't bear the feeling of being so out of control any longer and cutting the energy off at the source was the best way to get back in control.

Of course, the thought of killing Robin was a bonus. He wasn't going to deny that. He wasn't going to even pretend he had any qualms about killing someone who shared part of the same gene pool that he did. He'd hated Robin from long before he knew the truth about him. The fact that Robin was the first – and so far only person – who had refused to fall for Keats's usual line about helping them home in exchange for their help still made his blood boil. Even after showing him the tape, the one that had managed to get Simon onside in 1985, Robin hadn't budged. He'd made up his own mind about who to trust. Keats did not like that.

"Bloody independent thinkers," he mumbled crossly as he watched Gene's car through his own binoculars.

It wasn't just that. There was something far greater that was building up the anger and bile aimed in Robin's direction. The part that almost killed Keats inside. _Kim. _He had struggled ferociously against the very human feelings he felt for her all the time she was there in the nineties. He'd used gas and air, and a strange hypnotic presence to get what he wanted physically but he could never achieve the thing he _truly_ wanted – to make her love him back.

And now who'd won her heart? Only his nerdy, gay half-brother.

Just thinking about it brought the violent anger to the surface again and he punched the door of his car with a furious scream. Kim was his for the taking, he had her eating out of the palm of his hand for months and months. He had her under his spell. He had her right where he wanted her, but he never had her heart. Without that, he had nothing.

"Never mind," Keats hissed, "I'm sure she'll do you proud at your funeral. She always did look good in black."

If Robin had already been dead this wouldn't have been an option. He'd have been practically indestructible, just like Gene and Simon. But his heart was still beating out there and that meant his soul was good for the taking. As long as he could stop anyone from daring to try sending him home then he'd be killing Robin in 1997 and 2012 simultaneously.

"There's a joke about killing two birds with one stone in there somewhere," Keats said smugly as he carried in watching and waiting; biding his time.

This was his night. It was going to bring rewards in all shapes and sizes.

~xXx~

"There he is," Simon hissed, hogging the binoculars, "that is him, isn't it? Gene?" He glanced around. "_Gene?"_ Gene was bathed by the glow of his Gameboy. _"Oi! Gene!"_ he elbowed him crossly causing the Guv to swear profusely and turn a killer glare on him.

"I was _this bloody close_ to catching that Snorlax then!" he cried.

"What?" cried Simon, "what are you even… Pokémon isn't _out_ for another two years!" he snatched the Gameboy from Gene and stared at the screen. He was indeed playing Pokemon. The words '_Snorlax has fainted'_ adorned the screen. "What the _hell?"_ he glanced behind him. "Rob? Pokémon?"

Robin shrugged.

"I've been here a week, Simon, I don't get how this stuff works," he protested.

"Gene, does this world make deliberate anachronisms?" Simon asked.

"Do you mind? I'm not afraid of bloody spiders," Gene said haughtily.

Simon closed his eyes.

"Not arachnophobia – oh, never mind, forget it," he handed Gene the binoculars "Look, can we forget about spiders and Pokémon and get back to the stakeout? The rat's just turned up."

"I haven't got a Rattata yet either," Gene commented before he realised he had two pairs of eyes on him and should probably keep his mouth shut about his Pokémon exploits. "Alright, let's see what's going on."

He took a good look at the car which had pulled up a little way away from them and the ratty man who had climbed out from inside it. The area was more or less deserted, about to go under development a year or so down the line, and for Layton's purpose was ideal.

"How's he getting in the drugs?" Robin wondered, "boat? Lorry?"

"Could be carrier pigeon for all I care as long as we get him," said Gene.

Robin's eyes scanned along the water front to the pier that stretched out a barge beyond it. While it wasn't quite in the same state of disrepair that it had been when he and Kim had been held on board it had certainly seen better days. It made him shudder to see it again. The time he spent as the hostage of a crazed Keats/Layton hybrid was the most terrifying of his life. He hadn't seen the barge or been to the area since he'd carried Molly from the boat. Although in a different time and a different world being back made him feel anxious.

"Batman, even in the darkness I can see you've gone a very interesting colour," Gene commented.

Robin swallowed

Sorry," he mumbled, "not my favourite part of London. That's all."

They watched as Layton passed the time by sampling his own goods, presumably before he added the personal touch to the stuff, then sank back against a couple of abandoned crates to enjoy the moment.

"All the stupid anti-drugs campaigns in the nineties," Simon commented, "really they should have just put a picture of Layton and been done with it. That would have been far more effective."

They fell silent as they watched and waited. Midnight was edging closer, the latest shipment just minutes away. All they had to do was bide their time and then catch the rat. The air was laden with promise and the anticipation building all the time.

This was a night that had been a long time coming.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

_#...When the weather is fine you know it's the time_

_For messin' about on the river_

_If you take my advice there's nothing so nice_

_As messin' about on the river…#_

"Oh fuck off," Kim told the radio tactfully as they drove along.

She wasn't even sure why she'd put the radio on. The ride had been strangely silent and she supposed her initial thought had been to give them a distraction. But as the thought of getting to the barge loomed large songs about bodies of water were not welcome.

"Kim?" Alex asked quietly, "Do you have a song?"

Kim glanced as Alex in the mirror. She frowned, unsure what she meant.

"In what way?" she asked, "I'm not much of a singer –"

"No, I mean," Alex closed her eyes, "a song that keeps… appearing. Connected with going _over there."_

Kim swallowed and nodded.

"I think so," she said quietly, "I mean, not at the time… but lately. I think me and Rob had the same one. It was playing when Rob came back to the barge for me and Molly. And it played in the car in Manchester, just before…" she flinched. She didn't want to think about that. "Why? Do you?" she paused, "It wasn't that stupid river one was it?"

"No, no," Alex shook her head, "No, I had one. Thanks to Mister Layton." She could still hear his voice – _"I'm happy, hope you're happy too –" _that song haunted her. She could never listen to it again, knowing what it meant for her. She wondered why music seemed to be so closely linked with the people who passed into Gene's world.

Their destination was close by now. Kim could see the barge in the distance as she drove closer. Her heart was racing and her palms were sweating. She wasn't sure she was ready for this. Finally she pulled up at what she hoped was a safe distance away and took a deep breath.

"This is it," she whispered.

Alex nodded. She found her eyes starting to gloss over with tears.

"Uh-huh," she whispered. She couldn't even look at Kim. In her heart she knew this was goodbye. While she needed to get back to her home and to Gene she was going to leave behind a very dear friendship and that was hard to accept. Finally she took a few deep breaths and prepared herself for whatever lay ahead. "Let's do this then," she whispered.

Two doors of the car opened simultaneously and two very determined figures stepped out from within.

The moment had arrived.

**~xXx~**

The moment had arrived; the moment to feel that surge of bliss through his body again. Layton knew things hadn't gone to plan last time. He knew he'd used too much. At the time it had seemed like a good idea but on reflection it had been so long since he'd last used anything that it had been far too much for his body to cope with. He was going to be sensible this time. Rather that than end up back in hospital in a vomit-covered smock.

Preparing his ill-gotten gains for injection was like wooing a long-lost lover. It was familiar. Almost comforting. It had been a part of his life for so long that when he was thrown in prison it wasn't just being denied the drugs, going cold turkey and missing the high that affected him but losing his narcotics had been like taking away a big chunk of his life; of his personality, even.

His eyes focused on the needle and he found himself smiling. He needed this. Oh, he'd waited long enough. Luckily the dealer he'd mugged had quite a kit with him so Layton had everything he needed to enjoy himself.

At first he tried to block out the noise and the voices. He couldn't really focus on anything but the approaching hit. But soon he came to realise that the voices were getting closer and he knew that he wasn't alone.

_Shit! Fucking shit!_

He thought he'd be safe enough there for now. The old barge was abandoned, decrepit and devoid of purpose. No one should have been anywhere close. Unless –

_Bloody pigs._ Had they followed him there? Or just checked his history and made the connection with Alex's shooting? Either way it didn't matter, someone was coming and there was no way out.

_Shit._

This couldn't be it. No, he'd worked too hard at making his escape to find himself trapped in such a simple way. This _wasn't_ it, it _wasn't_ over. The voices were coming closer now and he could hear heels clip-clopping along the pier. The voices were quiet and hushed but still he could tell they were female and one sounded very familiar. It had been years since he fired that bullet but he would never forget her voice.

And now, here she was, on his trail. He closed his eyes, breathing hard. What _was_ this, _payback?_ Or his opportunity to finish what he started that day in 2008? Either way he needed to act quickly because time was running out.

He only had one course of action. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. He quickly scrambled to the side of the barge, beside the entrance. The footsteps were edging closer along the pier. He knew their owners would soon enter and he had to be ready. He closed his eyes and counted slowly to three, trying to keep his cool. He only had one chance. All or nothing.

_This was it._

The moment she stepped onto the barge he grasped her tightly with one hand and pulled her towards him. The shocked gasp she let out reverberated around the empty boat and around Layton's mind. He knew he'd be replaying that forever, along with the gunshot that put her into a coma all those years ago. He gripped her tightly; he wasn't going to let her go. This was it, this was the moment that had been a long time coming… the gunshot on the barge… the confrontation on the roof… the car chase – and now –

He gave a noise akin to a war cry as he gripped his needle tightly and plunged it into her neck, squeezing out the contents into her body, bringing pain to her flesh and fear to her mind.

"_You're not taking me back,"_ he hissed as he let her go and she dropped to the ground, coughing and choking, her fingers scratching for the needle in her throat. She forced her eyes open to take a good look at him. There was a look of fear on his face. She had the strangest feeling that it was stronger than her own. He seemed to freeze, aside from trembling as he stared at her. What had he done? _Now_ what had he done? Oh god, _more_ guilt… more guilt to add to his load. His hands were trembling and his mouth felt dry. He staggered back and gave a gasp as he watched her; her body starting to respond to the drugs he'd pumped into her. Her eyes were anguished, anxious and desperate as she stared at him, wacked by sensations and reactions that she wasn't used to.

It felt as though time had slowed to a snail's pace and that eons had passed instead of mere seconds. Layton's mind raced and his heart pulsed. He wanted to run but his feet felt frozen to the ground, and that's when he found himself staring into the barrel of a gun.

**~xXx~**

**1997**

"There," Nailer sat up a little straighter, "there he is, the slime-riddled bastard."

Victoria scowled as she saw him reach for his gun.

"I am _really_ not happy about you having that," she said.

Nailer looked from Victoria to the gun and back again. Then he held his weapon in her direction.

"You have it then," he said.

Victoria stared at him, her mouth open.

"What?"

"We'll make it your call," said Nailer, "coward like Layton doesn't need a gun in his face to get scared anyway. And you've probably had more experience with one of these than I have anyway." He noticed the look of confusion on her face. "I run a clean business, Vicky," he explained, "I don't like getting my hands dirty either. I'm not saying one or two of my men haven't dabbled in the darker side, and sometimes they take liberties… make decisions without my say so that leads to the mortuary… but no, I'm not a murderer." He held it a little closer, "so take it."

Victoria hesitated, then very slowly took the gun from him. She shook her head slowly, unsure what to make of the gesture.

"Alright," she said quietly.

"I give you my word, this will be over quickly, cleanly and painlessly," Nailer told her, "and at the end of it the city will sleep a little easier, and I'll buy you coffee."

"Coffee?"

"To pay you back for all the stuff I drank this morning," Nailer explained.

"I thought after everything I've risked today I'd be worth more than coffee," Victoria told him.

"Never said there wouldn't be a nightcap too," said Nailer. He watched as a truck started to back up into the deserted wharf area with Layton eagerly making his way across to it. "Looks like things are moving," he said. He glanced at Victoria. "Time for us to join the fun."

Victoria felt her stomach lurch with anxiety. This was not her side of the law – and yet it certainly felt like she was doing more than she'd done in all her time at Fenchurch West. Something about the confident smile on Nailer's face helped her to let go of her nerves. As she gripped the gun and opened the door of the car she felt alive. That was more than she had in more than a year.

**~xXx~**

"Layton's goodies have arrived," Robin hissed, passing the binoculars over to Gene.

"Wonder how much he keeps for himself?" Gene mused, "About ninety percent, I'd reckon." He reached for his gun and checked that it was loaded and ready.

"How come I don't have a gun?" Robin asked.

"You don't need a gun, people see the dog drool and run a mile," Gene told him.

Robin scowled. He was going to have to get faster at thinking up rebuttals for Gene. He was too used to sparring with Kim and didn't think Gene would appreciate threats of piercings in awkward places or comments about arses.

"How long should we wait?" Simon asked.

"We need to see money changing hands," Gene told him, "and at least catch sight of the goods." He watched through the binoculars as the driver of the lorry jumped from the cab and moved round to greet Layton with a handshake. They spoke for a few moments, causing Simon to comment,

"Bet that's a riveting conversation. Layton strikes me as quite a conversationalist."

Three pairs of eyes looked on as Layton followed the driver to the back of the lorry and watched as he opened the container on the back. As the man climbed inside Layton pulled a bundle of notes from his pocket and began to flip through them.

"Stand by," Gene told Simon and Robin as they awaited the right moment but all their plans and intentions went out of the window the second two figures approached the back of Layton and caught him unawares; one, male, who grabbed him and yanked him around before pulling his arms behind his back so hard that the cash flew up in the air and blew around them in the drizzle-riddled breeze. The second person, a woman, held a gun aloft, pointed first at Layton and then at the driver, standing just inside the back of the truck.

"What the buggering _hell?"_ Gene cried.

"Oh god, that's _Nailer,"_ cried Robin.

"Who's the bird?" asked Gene.

Simon squinted into the darkness.

"I don't believe this, but," he shook his head slightly, "She works for Keats at Fenchurch West. DI Stone."

Robin's jaw dropped.

"_Victoria_ Stone?" he asked, his voice shaking.

Simon nodded.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"That undercover detective I told you about?" Robin began, "the one they used to get Nailer?" he nodded towards Victoria, "that's her."

Simon and Gene turned to him with shocked and doubtful eyes.

"You have to be joking," cried Simon.

"No," Robin shook his head, "Fifteen years from now he'll think she's the love of his life."

"He seems fairly keen on her already," Gene commented.

"So now what the hell do we do?" cried Simon.

Gene looked at Nailer

"Looks like we might be getting a two for one deal," he said, "Let's see if we can _nick_ Nailer too." He tried to ignore the withering looks. "Oh _come on,"_ he growled, "someone had to say it! I seem to remember you were both scrapping to get the first pun in the last time we caught this particular gentleman!"

Gene began to open the door beside him but found Simon's hand grasping his shoulder to hold him back.

"Wait-wait-wait," he said quickly. He jabbed a finger out in front of him, "Who the hell is that?"

"What?" Gene followed the direction of Simon's finger to see another figure running toward the chaos, "what the flaming hell is happening tonight? This is supposed to be a bust, not a Benny bloody Hill chase!"

**~xXx~**

When he saw them, he couldn't believe it.

The moment he watched Nailer and Victoria accosting Layton and threatening him at gunpoint he felt as though he'd either lost his marbles or was in serious need of a new pair of spectacles.

Keats had only had one thing on his mind that night – bringing an end to Robin's life. The very last thing he had expected was to see the woman who had managed to escape his wrath earlier that day and the drug baron who a nationwide search had been on for together, interrupting the moment. Keats swallowed hard. He could feel pressure building in his head, a violent need to lash out that could explode at any moment. His eyes flashed with hatred for Victoria, _the one who refused to be seen and not heard, _the one who'd fought back and fled from the life to which her habit had imprisoned her.

This was wrong… every _part_ of this was wrong and rotten and he wasn't going to let this happen. Victoria was _his_. His toy. His verbal punching bag. His victim. She was going nowhere.

Before he knew what he was doing Robin was forgotten and the only thing on his mind was to grasp that woman and drag her back, quite literally, to hell. Dead or alive, he didn't care. He'd have her soul or he'd kill her spirit, it was all the same to him. He tore across the yard towards her and grasped her around the neck, causing a splutter and a gasp to rise from her lips.

"Well fancy seeing _you_ here," he cried as he pulled her roughly, turned her over and pushed her to the ground. She grasped the gun and aimed it at him but before she had a chance to fire his foot sprung towards her and kicked the weapon from her grip. "That's why girls shouldn't play with guns," he told her.

"_Vicky!"_

Keats turned with shocked eyes to Nailer. He had somehow managed to forget he was _there_ for a start. In addition, he couldn't believe the horrified and anxious tone with which he'd cried her name. Before he had a chance to respond he found all one hundred and ninety pounds of Nick Nailer flying in his direction. Not for the first time that day a fist made contact with his face, adding bruises to his collection and knocking him backwards. He staggered a little before pulling together all the rage and extreme anger in his body and taking a flying leap at Nailer where he knocked him to the floor and returned the favour with a fist to the cheek.

"You were safer inside, Nailer," Keats hissed.

"Funny, _you_ were safer when I was inside too," Nailer wasted no time in getting to his feet and gripping Keats by the arm, throwing him against the side of the lorry. He tried to punch him again but he just about evaded the flying fist.

"Too many years on the powder affecting your reactions?" Keats asked with a sardonic laugh but he was so busy attempting to mock Nailer that he didn't notice Victoria's hand grasping for his collar before it was too late as she gripped him firmly and held the gun to the side of his head.

"I'm worthless," she hissed, "I need the job more than _you_ need _me_, I'm a failure, I'm a waste of _space_… ring any bells, sir?"

Keats wasn't scared of the gun. He knew it couldn't harm him. But he had never seen such a dose of anger in someone's eyes before and _that_ made him nervous. He grabbed Victoria's hands and pulled them from his collar, pushing her backwards as fast as he could.

"Yes," he spat, "it _does_ ring a bell. Sounds like your CV."

Like a melee another fist joined the fray, throwing in one good, hard punch at Keats's face before grasping him by the arm and slapping on some handcuffs.

"You really have a way with the ladies, don't you Jimbo?"

It took a few moments for Keats to realise that Gene had not only managed to arrive in time to get in another punch that day but had also handcuffed him to the back of the truck.

"Let me the fuck out of these!" he cried, pulling and tugging on them, causing a heavy jangling noise but little else.

"No can do, jimbo," Gene told him. "I still owe you an arrest from earlier. But silly me, forgot the bloody handcuffs last time. Never mind, that's two sets of charges now. Jim Keats, I am arresting you for the assault of DI Victoria Stone and Nicholas Nailer."

"You think _these_ will hold me?" Keats sneered, jangling the cuffs again.

"Nope," said Gene, "but I also know you won't try anything while people are looking at you. You have to wait until the coast is clear before you 'disappear'. And guess what? Suddenly I'm finding you so fascinating that I think I'm going to pull up a comfy chair and get a bowl of popcorn."

"Gene?" Gene turned for a moment to see Simon dragging a twitching, struggling Layton towards him, "look what I caught."

"Well, well," Gene looked fairly smug, "even better. Saves _me_ having to stare at you. Got you a captive audience now." He took hold of Layton from Simon's grip and asked, "Handcuffs, Shoebury?"

"Uh," Simon dug around for a pair, "here."

Gene happily applied one end of the cuffs to Layton's wrist and the other to Keats's free arm.

"Trying to decide which one I'm feeling most sorry for," he said.

"_Me!"_ cried Keats, "feel sorry for _me!_ He smells like an aerobics instructor!"

Robin emerged from somewhere with the driver of the truck who'd attempted to abscond during the kerfuffle.

"One more for the collection," he said. With nothing better to do he cuffed the driver to the other two and tried to resist making a joke about the Human Centipede.

"Oh _shit,"_ Gene's sudden urgent cry caught everyone's attention, "Bloody Nailer –"

All eyes turned to the figures of Nailer and Victoria who were running together towards a silver car. Gene made to run after them but Robin grasped his arm and held him back.

"No, wait," he said.

Gene looked at him in utter confusion.

"Have you lost your _mind?"_ he asked, slightly disturbed that after a year of attending the gym Robin was actually strong enough to hold him back, "that is a wanted criminal with a lifetime of glory attached to his recapture!"

Robin swallowed, knowing that what he was asking went against everything that they worked for but he just couldn't let Gene do it.

"I don't think Nailer's going to give you any trouble, Gene," he said quietly, I think he just wants," he paused, "a chance. _A life."_ He looked at Gene seriously. "After all, that's what this world is for, right? Giving people another chance? A chance to solve their problems? A chance for the life they never had."

"For _coppers_, yes," cried Gene, "not for people with a list of misdemeanours the length of Jimbo's list of failures."

Robin shook his head.

"Then do it for Victoria," he urged him, "_she_ never got to have that second chance. She lost it the moment Keats drafted her into Fenchurch West."

Gene watched as the silver car sped away, a squeal of tyres the last reminder that Nailer had ever been there. He sighed. He supposed it was too late now - even if Robin _hadn't_ made him think again.

"What's your interest in Nailer's welfare anyway?" he asked.

Robin closed his eyes for a second.

"He talked some sense into me when I needed it," Robin said quietly, "he helped me accept happiness. Let him have his turn."

Gene shook his head as he stared at Robin. He had a feeling he'd missed out on something major there, but this wasn't really the time to ask.

"Fine," he said, "but you'd better give me a full account of Nailer's agony aunt qualities when all this is over."

"Fine," Robin nodded.

Simon approached, clutching a radio.

"Back up are on their way to bring this lot in," he said.

"Oh good," Gene turned to them, his arms folded, "might go with them. See if they'd lie to join me in a chorus of ninety nine green bottles."

Simon looked around.

"Where's Nailer? He asked, "did he get away?"

Gene glanced at Robin.

"Ask the poetic one," he told him, a faint sound of a siren catching his attention. "bloody hell, they didn't waste any time."

Simon glanced at Robin as Gene walked away.

"Well?" he prompted.

Robin sighed.

"Long story," he said quietly. His eyes travelled around to the barge. He had been trying to ignore it but now that things were calming down and the excitement was over for the night he couldn't stop his mind going back to that terrible day spent tied up, at the mercy of Keats.

"Robin? Are you alright?"

Robin looked at Simon a little guiltily.

"Sorry," he said quietly, "I was miles away."

"You look…" Simon wasn't sure how to finish that sentence. He'd never really seen Robin's expression so haunted.

"Sorry," Robin said again, "It's... it's the barge", he shuddered and pulled his coat around him, "I wasn't expecting to ever see that place again."

"What happened?" Simon asked quietly.

Robin stared ahead, trying to keep himself disconnected from his words.

"It was when Keats took a holiday in Layton's body," he said quietly, "he somehow had access to his memories. He knew the place was empty and abandoned so that's where he took me, Kim and Molly while he held us hostage." He sighed, "technically we weren't even hostages since he didn't demand anything in exchange for us. We _were_ what he wanted. He just wanted us to suffer." He shook his head. "I never expected to have to go back." He nodded to a spot on the road, close to where Nailer had parked. "That's where I parked my car," he said quietly, "when Keats told me there was a bomb on the boat. I didn't know if he was bluffing or not. I parked my car there and left the radio blaring out while I went back for Kim and Molly because I knew when I heard the music again we'd…" he took a deep breath, "we'd all be safe."

Simon stared at Robin's distant expression as he tried to deal with something he still hadn't really processed, even all those months on. He stepped a little closer and said quietly,

"You know, that's one of the important things about this place. He paused as Robin's eyes rose to meet his, "the chance to face your fears."

Robin's line of sight turned back to the barge. He knew what Simon was suggesting. It wasn't as though he hadn't considered it too. But the thought of going over there and setting foot in the place they'd been held was too daunting.

"I don't think I can," he said, his voice shaking.

Simon looked to the barge.

"I'll go with you," he offered.

Robin chewed on his lip and looked from Simon to the boat. The sound of the river filled in the silence as he thought it over. All those nights he'd had fevered dreams reflecting the horror of what they'd been through, all the times he'd flashed back to that boat. Maybe fate had brought him there for a reason. Maybe he did need to face it. Maybe he needed to go back to move on. He hated the way it still haunted him from time to time. Perhaps this really was his chance.

"Rob?"

Robin glanced up. He must have been silent for quite a while. He bit his lip and said a little guiltily,

"Sorry, I was miles away." He swallowed and looked at him seriously. "I think… I think that you're right," he said, "I need to face it. He stared at the barge and took a step forward. "I'm _going_ to face it."

Simon nodded slowly.

"Need some company?" he asked quietly.

Robin nodded.

"Yes please," he whispered.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

Kim looked Layton right in the eye as she held up her gun.

"You are one sick bastard," she hissed.

For a moment Layton stared at her. He was more worried by the spark at the back of his memory than he was by the gun in her hands. She looked familiar but he couldn't place her at all to begin with, then it came back to him in an explosion of memories as her features fell into place. It was the hair that fooled him; the last time he'd seen Kim she'd had long, dark hair. Now with a short blonde crop in its place she looked like a different person.

But he remembered. He knew who she was. He _remembered._

The weirdo woman up on the roof who kept rattling on about tattoos, trying to make him talk. _Fuck_, he hated that. Two things he couldn't stand – people looking at him and people trying to make him talk.

What _was_ this? The annual general meeting of people he'd _shot?_ His eyes moved to her neck and there it was; the scar from his bullet. He started to panic, his fear rising inside of him as the past came back to haunt him, standing right there, threatening his life. His mind shut down and his body reacted without any sense or logic. He couldn't help it.

He reached out to grab the gun but Kim wasn't letting go. The more he fought for it, the tighter she held it. He gripped her hands and tried to force her into dropping the weapon, their hands moving wildly around as they both fought for control until with one sharp movement Layton yanked the gun from her grasp, firing off a bullet which grazed her shoulder.

Her scream was loud but short, quickly dissolving into a string of expletives instead but those too died quickly as the realisation that Layton now had the gun in his possession overcame her.

"_Fucking ruined my life!"_ he cried, his mind twisting like a spiral staircase, "think I wanted to spend years on the run? Think I want to go to prison for shit I didn't do?"

Before anyone could react he quickly fired the gun two times, the first shot at Kim and the second at Alex, then he spun around and fled the scene as quickly as his limbs would allow.

The first shot missed Kim by inches and buried itself instead in the side of the boat. It took her a couple of moments to calm herself down, to stop hiding behind her hands and to realise that she was no longer in danger of getting a bullet in her flesh but her relief was short-lived as she turned to Alex and saw the state of her friend; the person she'd become so close to, the woman she'd found so inspirational and strong.

There was a bullet wound on her chest. Blood was seeping from within, staining the fabric of her clothes and slowly dripping down to the ground where it began to form a pool. The needle was still sticking out of her neck while the contents that Layton had prepared were surging through her body, a body that wasn't used to it, especially not to such a large dose – albeit smaller than the amount _Layton_ was used to. Her head spun and she was on the verge of vomiting from the intense nausea that grasped her but none of that blocked out the one desperate thought in her head.

With eyes wide, she stared at Kim as she dropped to the ground beside her, picking up her hands and squeezing them. Her fear was growing. The pain was all-consuming from the wound on her chest but it wasn't enough… it still wasn't _enough_ and that's what scared her more than anything – the closing of a door.

"_Kim,"_ she whispered, her voice shaking as she barely managed to force out the words, "_help me."_

Kim froze on the spot. She stared at Alex's suffering, failing body and just couldn't move… couldn't speak… The sight of her was so hard to bear. It broke her heart. She didn't know what to do for the best.

"Ma'am –" she whispered,

_"Please,"_ Alex's breathing was heavy and laboured, "Help me, Kim."

Kim swallowed. She tried to shake herself out of her daze.

"Ma'am… y-yes," she started to talk at speed, "yes, of course, I'll call for an ambulance," she reached for her phone, "we'll get you to hospital and they'll –"

But her words faded away as she watched Alex weakly shaking her head. Tears began to fall from her eyes, cascading down her pale cheeks as she begged for something that she knew she had no right to ask.

"_No_," she whispered, "Kim, I mean…. I mean, _help_ me."

Kim started at her. The look in her eyes, the trembling of her lip, the tears that continued to fall all told her exactly what she really meant. It stirred up a horrible churning through Kim's belly and gave her a cold shiver that ran from head to toe. Her bottom lip began to tremble and tears began to spill from her own eyes. Her hands were shaking now as she gripped Alex's harder, trying to show her warmth and friendship in the coldest moment of her life. She knew what Alex was asking. She knew very well. Her thumping heart and racing pulse gave her an extra hint as she began to nod, her body now shaking uncontrollably.

"Yes, of course," she whispered, "of course I will, ma'am," her words became broken by sobs; hysterical whimpers and big, gulping tears that she couldn't begin to control. She began to look around, her eyes scanning the boat for something, _anything_ that might help. There was rubbish and debris, litter from an occasional tramp and even one or two unwelcome mementoes from Keats's visit to the real world. One thing stood out; a piece of tarpaulin lying nearby which she grasped in her shaking hands and bought back to Alex.

"_Please,"_ Alex whispered. She knew time as running out. She was about to give in to the drugs and the pain, she knew she could black out at any moment. She didn't want to give an ambulance crew the opportunity to save her life. No heart massage, no oxygen, no defibrillators. It had to end now. Her life had to end now. "Please, Kim," she whispered, the tears still filling from her eyes as they threatened to close.

Kim knelt carefully beside her and scooped up her head into her lap. She breathed in deeply as she thought back to her exit from Gene's world, how Alex had brought her comfort in her last moments as she began to ebb away. She wanted so much to offer Alex the same. It was the very least that she could offer to someone she regarded with such affection and respect. She grasped the tarpaulin firmly between her thumb and fingers on each hand, making sure her grasp was a strong as it could be. Then, her hands trembling wildly, she held it above Alex's face as she whispered,

"Thank you… for being the kind of friend… I didn't think I'd ever have." She closed her eyes and choked out a violent sob. "I'll miss you, ma'am."

"One day," Alex whispered, fast losing the strength and ability to speak, "see you again – one day."

Kim held the tarpaulin a little closer to her face, then whispered,

"Please… when you get back… will you tell him I love him?" She watched Alex tearfully nod in silence, then saw her eyes close as she awaited the inevitable. This was it; it was time to go home.

With hands that shook and trembled at every inch, Kim brought the bright blue plastic down over Alex's nose and mouth, pressing it hard, her fingers covering as much of the area as possible. As she sobbed and wailed she felt Alex judder beneath her fingers, her body trying desperately to breathe, involuntarily doing all it could to stay alive. There was a strange energy all around then, a tingling that spread through Kim's fingers to her arms and right through deep into her body. She kept the tarpaulin pressed down, her hands holding it all the way around, until finally Alex stopped moving and her body went very limp against her.

Kim opened her eyes at last. She stared at Alex; her skin turning from white to blue. She swallowed and gasped for air between her sobs; sobs that filled the air with their volume and desperation. When she was absolutely sure that the final breath had left her body she dropped the plastic and stared at her face, the face which had been so wracked with pain and despair just moments before. With a slight gasp and another choking cry Kim saw something in Alex, something that made everything worthwhile;

The peaceful smile that was left upon her lifeless face.

**~xXx~**

**1997**

Robin hesitated at the entrance to the pier, his hand against the side rail and eyes fixed forward. His heart was racing as his mind replayed myriad flashbacks to the last time he was there. He could see himself running onto the boat, his chest covered in slashes from a crazed Keats, blood pouring from his wounds. He could hear the music booming from the car, fading with every lunge forward towards the barge. He could feel the pain from his wounds all over again and his hand rose involuntarily to his chest. He fought against the tears that threatened to start filling up his eyes. He wasn't going to give into those. It was more than he was prepared to allow. He wouldn't give Keats the satisfaction.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. It shook him from his thoughts and he looked quickly behind him where Simon was looking anxious.

"You don't have to do this if you're not ready," he said quietly. It was the first time that Robin had seen genuine concern and care on Simon's face with no ulterior motive. For once thoughts of trying to get Robin back, away from Kim were the furthest thing from his mind. He was starting to understand how much they had been through on the other side of the line and how much those terrible events had changed them. Now all Simon wanted to do was to take away the pain.

"If I waited until I was ready I'd never do it," Robin told him quietly. He turned and stared down the pier, towards the boat again. It was now or never. He just had to do it. He took a deep breath which he let out very slowly, then with deliberate, strong steps he began the walk towards the barge. He heard footsteps behind him as Simon stayed a pace behind. He knew this was Robin's journey; he was the one with the demons to face and he had to let him do so. But he wasn't going to go through it alone.

Robin found himself at the end of the pier. He closed his eyes and steeled himself for what came next. He felt Simon's presence right there over his shoulder, matching him almost step for step as he placed one foot, then the other, onto the barge and closed his eyes.

"_This is it,"_ he whispered.

Simon tiptoed after him into the darkness. Only a few shards of light brought the slightest hint of illumination to the barge. Robin's eyes scanned the place as he began a slow walk inside.

"Grim," Simon commented quietly.

"Believe it or not it's even worse in two thousand and bollocks" said Robin. He flinched. "I meant _twelve_. Two thousand and tw- _shit_, I've been here a week and I'm picking up the lingo…"

Simon smiled into the darkness. For the addition of ink, metal and muscles there were some things about Robin that hadn't changed and never would.

"So, what, does Layton _live_ here or something?" he asked.

"I don't think he _lives_ here exactly," Robin tiptoed through the darkness, "but he uses it as a place to hide… to carry out business… anything he needs to be out of sight for." He froze at a quiet, strained sound. "What was that?" he spun around.

"What?"

"Didn't you hear it?" he could make out Simon shaking his head in the darkness. "It sounded like…" he paused, unsure what it actually _did_ sound like. "Like an animal or something. Like it was hurt."

"Could be a fox," Simon suggested, looking around, "or a badger? Do they live on boats?"

"What - _no," _Robin cried, "they live in _sets."_

"What am _I_ thinking of then?" frowned Simon.

Robin couldn't think of any animals that lived on boats.

"_Sailors?"_ he suggested. Just then he heard the sound again, a pained whimpering that was followed by a very human cry. "Shit, there it is again."

"I heard it," Simon hissed, starting to look around. The dim light made it hard to see where the sound was coming from but their eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness which at least gave them a chance.

"I think it came from over here," Robin hissed, heading back in the direction they'd come from. His eyes scanned left and right but he couldn't see any sign of anyone to begin with. As they moved slowly by, one shard of light trough the doorway illuminated what seemed at first to be a pile of clothes and plastic but as they approached it they heard a sob and a quiet plea for help.

"Shit, there _is_ someone," Simon commented unnecessarily as he followed Robin quickly to the heap on the floor. He watched as Robin bent over and moved some of the debris away.

"_Oh my fucking god –"_

Simon felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.

"What?" he whispered.

He watched as Robin turned back to him, his eyes as wide as the moon and his face full of shock.

"It's _Alex,"_ he whispered.

"_Alex?"_ Simon repeated in a gasp of astonishment, his legs giving way as he found himself on the floor beside them, "It can't be –" he stopped taking as he managed to make out her features in the darkness, "Oh my god, Alex… _Alex,"_ he sat, open mouthed, shaking his head, "Where the hell… mean, _how_…. What the _fuck…?"_

"Alex," Robin pushed the hair from her face and tried to help her sit up, "Alex, are you alright? What happened –"

He stopped abruptly as she gave out a cry of pain and clutched her stomach, fear running through her veins.

"_Help me,"_ she cried, her voice filled with fear, "the _baby –"_

"W-what is it, Alex?" Robin asked urgently, "what's the matter?"

Alex gave a tearful gasp.

"I think it's coming," she cried.

Robin looked at Simon in horror, who was presently retreating a few inches and looking green, even in the negligible light.

"B-but it _can't_ be," cried Robin, "you… isn't it too soon?" he watched her close her eyes and nod tearfully.

"_Far too soon,"_ she whispered.

"_Shit,"_ Robin's heart raced as he stared at her. He had to work out what to do and he had to work it out _fast_. He glanced back at Simon who was busy trying not to throw up at the suggestion of a baby arriving imminently and spreading _gunk_ all over the barge.

"What the hell are you doing standing there?" cried Robin, "call an ambulance! Get _Gene!"_

"Aren't we supposed to be getting hot towels or something?" Simon gulped.

"That's clean towels and hot water," cried Robin, "and the hot water part is a bloody fallacy! You don't need that!"

"W-what about for making tea?" Simon gulped.

"Does she _look_ like she wants tea?" cried Robin. He glanced back at Alex, "We'll get you help as soon as we can," he said, "we'll call an ambulance."

"_Layton,"_ Alex whispered.

"What?

"_Layton,"_ her eyes glistened with tears, "he put a needle in me… injected…. Oh _god _–" she stopped talking as she doubled up in pain again.

Robin turned back to Simon.

"What the hell are you doing still doing, waiting here?" he cried, "Go and call a bloody ambulance!"

"But… but you said it's too early…" Simon tried to get his words out, "how… how pregnant _is_ she exactly?"

"I don't know," cried Robin, "I don't know how long passed while I've been here…"

"Twenty six…" Alex whispered, "I'm twenty six weeks."

"Shit," Simon closed his eyes.

"What are you waiting for?" cried Robin.

"I'm trying to work out how the hell to explain that a pregnancy that should have been delivered four months ago is arriving three months prematurely!" cried Simon, "she was bloody due in October!"

"Just get the fucking ambulance!" cried Robin, "we'll deal with that when the time comes." he watched Simon get to his feet. "And get _Gene!"_

He turned back to Alex's terrified, pained face as he heard Simon's footsteps running from the boat to make the call. He found himself shaking. He couldn't have been more surprised by her arrival if she'd been donning a fake beard and doing Evan impressions. He stroked her hair back and tried to keep his cool.

"We'll get you help right away," he whispered, "it'll be alright. Everything will be alright."

Alex closed her eyes, breathing in deeply as another wave of pain filled her abdomen. She was terrified; her fear for the baby overpowering her senses, and the pain making it difficult to cope, but there was one thing that helped to keep her spirits alive. With her heart racing and the tiniest smile on her lips she closed her eyes and whispered two words, the words shed been desperate to utter for so long.

"I'm home."

**~xXx~**

**2012**

The tears trickled silently down Kim's cheeks as she cradled Alex's head and shoulders in her arms. She stroked her hair back away from her face and looked at the peaceful smile that graced her lips. She knew that she was where she wanted to be. She knew she was back in the right place. She knew she was home. But that didn't mean she wasn't going to miss her.

She knew the last few minutes would haunt her forever. She could still feel the sensation of the tarpaulin in her hands and Alex trembling and shaking as she involuntarily fought for breath. She would never forget the electricity in the air either. Something happened that she couldn't explain; a powerful exchange of energy. She could still feel a tingling in her fingers.

Gently she lifted Alex's head, slid her legs from underneath it and laid her head carefully on the floor. She shakily got to her feet to begin all the things she wished she didn't have to do – calling in to the station, a fruitless call to the ambulance crew, disposing of the tarpaulin –

But she knew it was worth it for Alex's sake.

Her journey was at an end. Her ticket home was a one-way affair. It was over, all over.

"_Goodbye, Ma'am," _she whispered, "_be happy."_

_~xXx~_

_#...All this talk of getting old_

_It's getting me down my love_

_Like a cat in a bag, waiting to drown_

_This time I'm comin' down_

_And I hope you're thinking of me_

_As you lay down on your side_

_Now the drugs don't work_

_They just make you worse_

_But I know I'll see your face again_

_Now the drugs don't work_

_They just make you worse_

_But I know I'll see your face again_

_But I know I'm on a losing streak_

_'Cause I passed down my old street_

_And if you wanna show, then just let me know_

_And I'll sing in your ear again_

_Now the drugs don't work_

_They just make you worse_

_But I know I'll see your face again_

_'Cause baby, ooh, if heaven calls, I'm coming, too_

_Just like you said, you leave my life, I'm better off dead_

_All this talk of getting old_

_It's getting me down my love_

_Like a cat in a bag, waiting to drown_

_This time I'm comin' down_

_Now the drugs don't work_

_They just make you worse_

_But I know I'll see your face again_

_'Cause baby, ooh, if heaven calls, I'm coming, too_

_Just like you said, you leave my life, I'm better off dead_

_But if you wanna show, just let me know_

_And I'll sing in your ear again_

_Now the drugs don't work_

_They just make you worse_

_But I know I'll see your face again_

_Yeah, I know I'll see your face again_

_Yeah, I know I'll see your face again_

_Yeah, I know I'll see your face again_

_Yeah, I know I'll see your face again_

_I'm never going down, I'm never coming down_

_No more, no more, no more, no more, no more_

_I'm never coming down, I'm never going down_

_No more, no more, no more, no more, no more…#_

_~ The Drugs Don't Work – The Verve_


	21. Chapter 19: Lucky Man

_**A/N: Tissue warning! The remaining chapters are all fairly emotional… some with happy stuff and some with sad. Before anyone beats me with Geoff's loofah please keep in mind that everything that is happening happens for a reason and there's a bigger picture opening up (Yeah, I haven't finished with those yet!)… and I absolutely promise a horribly saccharine sweet, mushy, happy epilogue that you'll be barfing over from now until Christmas :P Anyway, on with the story…**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter Nineteen**

**2012**

"_So who do we have here?"_

"_Kimberley Stringer, thirty four years old. She's a detective from Fenchurch East police station, been tracking the escaped patient from last night. Recently suffered cracked ribs after being hit by a car. Almost twelve weeks pregnant. She was being treated for a gunshot wound to the shoulder when she appeared to start convulsing and quickly went into cardiac arrest. She was revived at the scene but has been in and out of consciousness since then."_

"_Any history of –"_

"_She suffered cardiac incident last year; no underlying cause was ever found."_

"_Alright, cubicle three is about to be cleared, you can take her through there shortly. How about the patient the call came in for? How is she doing?"_

"_Alex Drake… she was pronounced dead at the scene; attacker had injected her with something… presumed to be heroin… then fired a shot at her. The witness reports seeing him smother her with a sheet of plastic. Attempts to revive her failed and she was pronounced dead at nine-o-six this morning."_

"_Oh, the poor girl. After everything she went through. Everything she survived."_

"_It wasn't third time lucky, that's for certain."_

There was a pause.

"_And the baby?"_

**~xXx~**

**1997**

Simon raced along the pier, leaving the barge behind. His feet clanked against the metal as he ran until he finally emerged back onto terra firma.

"Gene?" he called out, "_Gene?"_

His eyes scanned the scene for any sign of him. There were several panda cars there now and a few uniformed officers wandering around the scene; some investigating the contents of the lorry, others finding some interesting substances in Layton's car, but there was no sign of the one person Simon needed to find. He eventually ran to a sergeant who was standing beside a car, talking to a couple of other officers.

"Excuse me," he panted a little, "Have you seen DCI Hunt? Do you know where he is?"

"I think he decided to escort Layton and DCI Keats to the station personally," the sergeant told him.

"Shit," Simon closed his eyes and groaned, "They've left _already?"_

The sergeant nodded.

"From what I could make out he was very keen to get them involved in a round of _ninety-nine green bottles_," he explained.

"_Damnit,"_ Simon groaned, "I bet he hasn't even got a bloody radio." He rubbed his head, glancing back to the barge. Alex needed Gene. He tried to work out the fastest way of getting hold of him and thought about calling his office but the chances were that he wouldn't be there and Simon wasn't going to leave a message after the fuss Gene made earlier. He didn't want to be accused of putting Gene's office in the red light district again. "Alright," he looked back at the sergeant, "I need you to do two things for me; first of all radio in for an ambulance. There's a pregnant woman in premature labour over on that boat," he pointed to the barge, "Layton injected her with something. We need to get her to hospital ASAP."

The expression on the sergeant's face was worried and a little confused.

"Alright," he said, "I'll do that right away, sir. And the other thing?"

Simon swallowed and took a deep breath.

"I need you to radio in to the station and leave a message in custody for DCI Gene Hunt. He needs to call DCI Shoebury the moment he gets back. Say it's important. Tell him…" he hesitated as he tried to work out what to say, "tell him that he has a very important visitor from a long way away who needs to see him," he paused, "and it's been a long time coming."

"Alright," the sergeant was a little confused but didn't question him. Instead he reached for the door of the car to get his radio.

"Thank you," Simon said gratefully, his eyes scanning the scene one last time. When he was absolutely sure there had been no mistake and there was no sign of Gene he started to head back to the barge. As his feet hit the pier he thought he could hear something; a voice calling his name. As he realised it was Robin he picked up his pace and began to run towards the boat, worried by his anxious tone. When he finally found himself back on board he tried to adjust to the dim light.

"Robin?" he asked, cautiously making his way back to him and to Alex, "what's wrong? Is it Alex? Is she OK?" He felt his concern growing. Her cries and whimpering were over and she was laying still and silently. That made Simon's worry increase for a start.

"She passed out," Robin said, his eyes wide with concern, "but that's the least of her problems right now."

"Why? What's happened?" Simon asked worriedly.

"We've, uh, got a problem –" Robin moved back a little for Simon to see. It took a while for him to adjust enough to the darkness and to see her properly. As soon as he was able to focus on Alexhis mouth dropped open and he slapped his hand over it. He looked at her svelte form and then looked to Robin in a panic.

"Where the bloody hell has the bump gone?"

"I don't _know!"_ cried Robin, "one minute it was there, the next it had _gone!"_

"It can't have _gone,"_ cried Simon, "did you check in her pants to see if the baby had… _fallen out?"_

"I'm not looking in Alex's _pants!"_ cried Robin, "besides, it doesn't _work_ like that!"

"It _might_ do… you're not a midwife."

"No, but I've got a book," protested Robin.

"A book?" cried Simon, "what do you need a bloody book for?"

Robin fell silent and looked away.

"Not important," he said quietly, "what's important is that suddenly there's no bump, no baby and I don't know what the _fuck's_ happened."

"I just told them to radio for an ambulance," Simon cried, "I said she was pregnant… they're going to think I've gone mad… or that something is going on."

"Something _IS_ going on!" cried Robin.

Simon stared at Alex, still out cold. He pulled and tugged anxiously at his hair as he stared at her. He couldn't imagine what was happening but one thought struck him harder than any other.

"What the hell are we going to tell Gene?" he whispered.

Robin just stared at him, a look of hopelessness on his face. He didn't know. He didn't know what the hell he was going to say to him. Nor to Alex for that matter. The baby was there just a few moments earlier as Alex clutched her belly in pain and tearfully sobbed that she thought it was coming. Coming, or _going?_ They could hear a distant ambulance getting closer and their worried eyes met once more.

"Look," Robin began quietly, "Tell the ambulance crew you made a mistake about the pregnancy. Say she was delirious from the drugs, say it was a false alarm… It doesn't really matter. That's not the important part, and it's not like we'll ever see the damn paramedics again. It's Gene we need to treat carefully here. It's probably best that you tell him."

"What? Why me?" cried Simon.

"Because you know him better than I do," said Robin, "You can help him… he'll listen to you."

"Throw me against a filing cabinet you mean."

"No," Robin shook his head, "he trusts you. He'll listen to you." Simon doubted it somehow but he didn't want to fight about it. He looked at Alex, still out cold, knowing the sight of her flat stomach would be the thing to bring sadness to both herself and Gene.

"The baby went one way," he sighed, "why couldn't it come back?"

Robin bit his lip.

"It did," he whispered, "For a while."

"Then where is it now?"

Robin simply shook his head. He couldn't answer that.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

Dreadful dreams with horrid, violent images swirled around inside Kim's mind. There he was, time and again; Arthur Layton, causing pain and suffering to all those he came in contact with. The same old nightmares had been joined by a new batch, going around again on repeat. But they didn't end how she expected them to; once again a modified nightmare concluded the circle, the bullet that he fired right through Robin once again sinking into his flesh instead.

She gasped as she awoke, her eyes flying open and a scream on her lips. She tried to sit up but she couldn't move. There were bleeps. Bleeps, beeps and alarms. She scanned the room around her, her eyes moving from side to side. Oh _fuck_, not hospital. Back in hospital _again?_ What the hell happened? She had no memory of anything happening to her. She knew there had been a wound on her shoulder where she'd been grazed by the bullet but it was only very mild, she'd been through much worse. So why the hell was she there?

She tried to replay through the events of the early morning; accosting Layton on the barge, the injection of something he plunged into Alex, the gunshot to her chest and the sound of his feet as he fled the barge.

And then… then there was _that._

The thing she couldn't bring herself to think about.

She swallowed hard and breathed in deeply as she tried to fight the return of the memory; Alex's face turning ever paler as she starved her body of oxygen; the tearful requests for help, holding her head in her lap, the energy around them – oh _god,_ how was she ever going to come to terms with _that?_

It was the right thing. She _knew_ she'd done the right thing, everything that they'd done for Alex from the moment she awoke had been geared towards helping her home but she had never, _ever_ expected to have such a literal part in her journey. She had never realised her own importance in the grand scheme of things. She closed her eyes as she remembered the last time they'd tracked Layton. That time it had been Robin sending Alex home. Had this been _her_ turn?

Which led her back to her original question –

Why the _hell_ was she in hospital?

It was a few minutes before a nurse came by and found her conscious.

"Kim," she said with a friendly smile, "I'll tell the doctor you're awake."

"Why was I even asleep?" Kim demanded.

"You had some difficulties when the paramedics were treating your shoulder," the nurse told her, "the doctors will explain to you what happened." She gave her another friendly smile and left the room before Kim had a chance to ask anything more.

Kim leaned back and closed her eyes again. Her chest felt heavy. For that matter, so did her limbs. She wished that she could make some sense of what was going on, but more than that she wished for a sign - any kind of sign that Alex had made it home safely – as she hoped and prayed that Robin would be heading in the other direction soon.

**~xXx~**

**1997**

Robin stood back with his arms folded as the paramedics moved Alex from the barge on the stretcher.

"Well, _I_ feel like a total idiot," Simon told him, "_Sorry guys, I was wrong about the baby. Yeah, thought she was in labour, turned out to be wind."_ He waited for Robin to say something but he was as quiet as he'd ever seen him. "Rob?" He frowned. "What's wrong, Robin?" he asked.

Robin looked at him, his face pale and drawn.

"Nothing really," he said, a slight sigh in his voice, "It's… this place, I guess."

"The barge?"

"The _world."_

Simon frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Robin swallowed.

"It's all got me kind of paranoid," he said quietly, "while you were out earlier, getting help, just before Alex's bump vanished I thought I saw someone."

"What do you mean? Where?"

"Over there, at the side of the boat," Robin explained. He pointed to the area, "but they were only there for a second, then the next instant they were gone."

Simon frowned.

"Who was it?" he asked.

Robin looked away.

"Does it matter?"

"I don't know if you don't tell me."

Robin closed his eyes. He didn't even want to voice it. It was too much to cope with thinking about, let alone to put into words.

"I don't know," he lied, "could have been anyone. It was too dark to tell."

He knew he was tired. It was a ridiculous hour of the morning and they'd been staking out Layton and his collection of drugs all night, but for the briefest moment he truly thought Kim was standing _right there,_ piercings and all. He sighed internally. _Wishful thinking._ That's all it was. He glanced around him. If Alex was home then why wasn't _he?_ Shouldn't he be going in the other direction? He needed to think about this. He thought Alex's fate and his own were linked, that her arrival would send him back to reality. Now he was going to have to think again.

"Rob, we'd better get to the hospital with Alex," Simon said quietly.

Robin nodded. There wasn't time to think about his own fate yet.

"I'll go with her in the ambulance," he said, "why don't you go straight to the station and see if you can find Gene. It would be better telling him in person than on the phone."

Simon nodded. Robin had a point.

"Alright," he said. He looked at him in concern as he began to follow the paramedics. "you… you _are_ Ok, aren't you?"

Robin wasn't altogether sure. But the last thing he needed was Simon worrying about him.

"I'm fine," he said quietly, "we just need to get those two reunited."

He followed the paramedics from the barge with Simon heading out behind him. It had been a long night, and with so many questions still to be answered the night was far from over yet.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

"- it was a similar cardiac event to the one you suffered last year," the doctor told Kim seriously, "we don't know what caused it yet. We'd like to run some tests while you're here."

"You're not running any tests and I'm not _here,"_ Kim said quietly, "I'm discharging myself."

"You can't discharge yourself, your heart stopped!"

"It happened before and I discharged myself.

"We need to find out the cause for these episodes," the doctor told her, "there may be an underlying problem."

"I had all the tests last time and you found nothing."

"We may have missed something."

"Then that's your problem, not mine," Kim took a deep breath and tried to keep her cool. She started to realise something; something that she was trying hard not to think about but the thought wouldn't go away. If her heart had stopped then was she even still supposed to be there? After all the broken watches and the brushes with passing to the other side, had she only remained in the real world because she had a job to do – to send Alex home? And if so did that mean her job had been fulfilled now? She'd been focusing on Robin getting home – what if _she_ was supposed to be going to _his_ side instead?

And the paramedics had spoilt that.

They'd brought her back from the dead.

"_Shit."_

"I'm sorry?"

Kim bit her lip. She hadn't realised she'd spoken out loud. She tried to gloss over that comment and asked,

"Alex Drake," she cleared her throat, "she…?"

The doctor looked grim.

"I'm so sorry," he said, "she didn't make it. We were unable to revive her."

A wave of utter relief washed over Kim from head to toe. She knew that Alex had passed back to Gene's world but she needed to be sure. She tried to fight the smile that was threatening to cross her features, knowing that Alex was home at last.

"Thank you for letting me know," she whispered.

"Now, as for her baby," the doctor began.

Kim froze.

"Uh…. Yes?" she whispered, frowning.

"The paramedics were able to establish that the baby was, somehow, hanging on," the doctor told her.

A terrible, cold feeling filled Kim's bones.

"Go on," she whispered.

"As the baby was past the point of viability she was delivered by caesarean upon being brought in."

"What?"

"Now, it's very early days –"

"You _what?"_

"The baby is very premature and we don't know whether there could be any long term effects from –"

"What the hell have you _done?"_

The doctor frowned at Kim.

"We saved a baby's life," he said.

Kim felt herself starting to tremble. She gripped the covers in her hands and pulled them tightly around her. If the baby was alive and had been born there, in the real world, then what did that mean for Alex and Gene? She closed her eyes as an anguished sob burst forth.

"_Oh god_… what the _hell_ have you _done?"_ she whispered.

The doctor looked at her in abject confusion.

"It's our job to save lives, Miss Stringer, whether that's yours or the life of a baby who still has a chance."

Kim wanted to cry and scream. She wanted to yell the word _'no' _over and over again. Of course the doctor didn't understand. Of _course_ he didn't know what he'd done. But now there was a baby without a mother – and, she had a terrible feeling, a mother without her baby.

Suddenly her heart ached so much that she thought it was about to stop once again.

**~xXx~**

**1997**

Simon tore through custody. He knew Gene had to be there somewhere. He hadn't called him so he couldn't have got the message. Either that or he was accusing his answerphone of being a prozzie again. He finally conceded and went to the young officer on the desk.

"Has DCI Hunt come in with a couple of suspects?" he asked.

"He has," the officer told him, "he's preparing to interrogate one in room four."

"Cheers," Simon said quickly, dashing away again. He rushed down a different corridor and found Gene standing outside of the room, awaiting assistance from someone for his interrogation. _"Gene!"_

Gene glanced up and saw the extremely flustered Shoebury coming in his direction.

"Bloody hell, who's died?" he asked.

Simon came to a halt in front of him.

"No one," he panted, "sort of the opposite."

"I'm not in the market for medical miracles right now, Shoebury," Gene told him, "I've finally got me opportunity to interrogate Jimbo. I have Geoff, a box of loofahs and George Michael's entire solo back catalogue on standby."

"Gene, it's _Alex,"_ Simon said breathlessly. He saw Gene freeze completely, every inch of him motionless. "She's come back."

The words had come so out of the blue that they were almost devoid of meaning. They were like a statement that was so powerful his mind genuinely couldn't process it. While everything about tracking Layton and arresting him had been geared towards bringing Alex home Gene hadn't anticipated that her return would be so instant or so literal. He had expected that there would be more to it than that. To have him in custody one minute and hear those words the next? His mind couldn't process it

He turned very pale . He felt absolutely convinced his stomach literally turned round 180 degrees. He knew he was more or less indestructible but the way his heart responded by beating at a deathly-fast pace he felt sure he was about to keel over at any moment. For all those months he'd dreamed of hearing those words. _Yearned_ for it. Dreamed about it at night and thought about little else all day.

Now he'd heard them and he couldn't stop shaking.

"Where is she?" - It was the first question that came to mind. Not the last… and not the only one… not by a longshot – but it was the most important. All he needed was to know the answer and then he could ask her the others for himself.

"She was on the barge," Simon told him quickly, "Layton… he injected her with something… we think she meant in two thousand and twelve, but –" he saw Gene zoning out the rest of his words as he started to move at a quickening pace towards the exit, "Gene, wait –" Simon lunged toward him and grasped his shoulder, "You need to hear me out. We got an ambulance as soon as we could, they took her to hospital."

"Then that's where we're going," Gene mumbled.

"Gene, _listen,"_ Simon's tone was more insistent now and finally Gene looked at him seriously.

"Spit it out, Shoebury, I'm needed," he growled.

Simon stood in front of him and placed one hand on each shoulder, taking a deep breath to steel himself for breaking the kind of news that no one should ever have to utter.

"Gene," he said quietly, "there's something you need to know."

Gene felt his mouth go dry. He stared at Simon, trying to keep his expression firm and strong.

"Is she alive?" he asked bluntly.

"Yes… oh god, yes, she isn't dead," Simon realised that he'd led Gene to think the absolute worst, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that..."

"Then what?" His expression darkened. "Stringer's pierced her eyebrow, hasn't she?"

"_No!"_ Simon closed his eyes for a second, "No, Gene, you have to listen to me. This is serious." He took a deep breath in. "When we found her she said she thought she was in labour."

Gene's anxiety rose in an instant.

"The baby –" he began.

"_Listen,"_ Simon insisted. He looked Gene in the eye. "I went out the barge to get someone to radio for an ambulance. By the time I got back, her bump had gone."

Gene stared at h im. The words made no sense.

"A bloody bump can't _disappear,"_ he cried, "You sure it wasn't wind?"

"I'm _serious_, one minute she was pregnant, the next there was no sign."

Gene swallowed and tried to ignore the fact that emotions were threatening his gruff exterior. He kept his stare fixed on Simon.

"And you checked it hadn't… fallen out?" he asked a little abruptly.

Simon swallowed.

"Robin said it doesn't work like that," he said quietly, "He has a book. _Apparently_."

Gene breathed in and let it back out so hard that the sound echoed through the corridor. His tongue ran involuntarily over his dry lips as he asked,

"So, in _Doctor Thomas's_ expert opinion," He swallowed, determined not to let Simon se his bottom lip wobble in the slightest, "What's happened to my kid?"

Simon looked down. He found himself fighting back tears.

"We think," he whispered, "that somehow the baby stayed in two thousand and twelve. Or at least, that's where it went back to."

Gene closed his eyes. His breathing couldn't keep up with him. All the oxygen in the world couldn't stop him from feeling lightheaded and unsteady. He swallowed and bowed his head for a second. This felt like a cruel twist of fate that he didn't deserve.

"If Bolly is back here," he began, his voice stiff and cold as he tried to keep it devoid of feeling, "then why isn't the baby here too?"

"Maybe because the baby… isn't a copper?" Simon asked quietly. The words sounded stupid but the truth behind them held possibility.

Gene looked at Simon.

"All the time it was inside her, it was hopping back and forth," he said

"Then maybe," Simon whispered, "it's not inside her any more."

"It's alive in two thousand and bollocks," Gene breathed. He felt a crushing weight on his chest. This was a little too much to deal with in one go. He shook his head. He needed to take things a step at a time and one part was more important than the others "I need to see her," he said quickly, walking towards the exit.

"Of course," Simon nodded, "Look, Ill drive you."

"Think I can manage."

"You've had a shock –"

"And I need to drive it out of me bones," Gene told him, "now if you're coming with me you're going to need a sickbag and a firm grip on the dashboard because we're not going to be taking a leisurely drive. Are you coming or what?"

Simon hesitated.

"Do you _want_ me to come?" he asked.

Gene glanced at him. He hesitated and closed his eyes. It wasn't easy to admit it but he needed someone there. He didn't want to go alone.

"Get in the bloody car, Shoebury," he said quietly, "make it the whole way without losing yer dinner and there's a bag of chips in it for you. "

Simon followed Gene from the building and out to the car. It should have been a night for celebration and now it had become the most bittersweet of victories. He put aside any awkwardness and bad feeling that he still had towards Gene for the night. Whatever might have happened with his mother twenty years ago he'd come to know Gene as a friend. He didn't want a father figure; he already had a dad – that was the man that had brought him up for most of his life. He wanted back the friendship that they'd worked to build despite their differences and he wanted to offer him the support he needed to cope with a strange and difficult night.

If there was one good thing to come from the night then perhaps that would be it.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

Kim staggered down the hospital corridor. OK, so maybe she should have stayed where she was, at least for a few more hours, but she had enough of hospital beds and she had more important things on her mind. She followed the signs to the neonatal unit and stared through the window. She could feel herself starting to fill up with tears again.

"Can I help you?"

The voice caught Kim by surprise. She glanced around to see a midwife behind her. _Time to pull yourself together, Kim._

"My, uh," she wiped her eyes on her sleeve, "my friend…. died tonight," she whispered, "but they saved her baby. I wondered… I just wanted to see her…"

"I'm sorry, that won't be possible for a while," the midwife said sympathetically, "at this stage with a baby born so early and under such difficult circumstances only next of kin would be allowed to see her."

"She doesn't _have_ any," Kim whispered sadly, "not any more." She paused and bit her lip. "Except for a half-sister." She thought about Molly and felt a terrible sense of guilt crashing over her. She'd _killed_ Molly's _mother_ – as much as Alex needed her assistance and Kim knew she'd done the right thing by her she could never look Molly in the eye again. She hung her head as she thought about the teenager. Had she been told yet? Did she know about Alex? Oh _god_, what a horrible situation.

She closed her eyes as she thought about the tiny baby; the miracle who'd skipped timezones and somehow been born alive despite everything. The fight the poor mite still had ahead was terrifying to imagine. Whether the baby would make it or not hung in the balance and Kim knew that. But one thought stayed with her,

Molly had a sister now.

A piece of her mother, left behind, even thought she had moved to another plain; to the place she knew as home. While the baby should have stayed with her mother and gone back too, there was a teenage girl who now wasn't truly alone in the world as she would have been. She didn't even know if Molly would see it that way, her initial response to Alex's pregnancy had been one of jealousy and anger but as time had moved on she'd come to understand things a little better and had even shown excitement at having a sister on the way.

"Molly will look after you," she whispered against the doorway, as though the baby could hear, before she added silently, _and Molly, this little one can look after you, too._

Perhaps, just _perhaps_ there was a reason for the baby to stay behind after all. It didn't seem enough to Kim, but she couldn't deny the thought hit a chord with her.

She hoped she was right because it was the only thing that made any sense to her. A tiny legacy left behind from the strongest woman Kim had ever met.

"_Fight on, little one," _she whispered.

**~xXx~**

**1997**

"That's never happened before," Gene mumbled, taking the papers off the dashboard and throwing them onto the backseat. Until that point the papers for new recruits had always landed on his desk. Here were a set that had chosen a different venue for their arrival – his car. He could understand why as soon as he opened them. They were Alex's replacement papers. The world had cooked up a nice, elaborate story for her.

Deep undercover, infiltrating Layton's dealings.

Nice story. It saved Gene trying to cover up for her sudden reappearance, at least.

"Do you have to do it often?" Simon asked quietly as Gene drove.

"Do what?" Gene asked.

"Do you get people coming back often?" Simon asked, "do you have to cover up for what happened before?"

"Depends on how they left," Gene told him, "You were a bloody tricky one. You had to 'die', didn't you? You got the deep undercover treatment too, if I remember."

"Do _many_ people come back?" Simon asked.

"A few," said Gene, "You. Batman. Sam. Bolly's joined elite company now."

The rest of the drive to hospital was mostly silent, except for Simon trying to break the tension by asking Gene some Pokémon-related questions but not only did Gene find it disrespectful that Simon would ask such frivolous questions under the circumstances but he also touched a raw nerve about a Doduo that got away. Simon decided not to ask any more Pokémon questions and settled for humming the theme tune to the TV show instead. It wasn't long before he found himself twatted around the head for that.

Soon they arived at the hospital and Simon found himself following along after Gene who was walking at a shocking pace.

"Gene, _wait!"_ he cried, "you don't even know where you're going! We don't know where they've taken her!"

"I'm using me Bolly-sensing equipment for that," Gene told him.

Simon had a horrible feeling that, at any other time, that would have descended into jokes about that particular _equipment_ residing in his _joy department,_ but this wasn't the time or the place. He trusted Gene's instincts as he followed him along and somehow they found themselves in the right part of the hospital as signified by Robin pacing up and down the corridor with a black coffee.

"Gene," he said quickly.

"Where is she?" Gene asked immediately.

"She's in that room," Robin pointed to a door behind them, "but Gene, listen, they've sedated her. She was having a bad reaction to whatever she was injected with. They had to knock her out for her own safety. She was in danger of hurting herself."

Gene swallowed as he stared at the doorway.

"Does she know," he asked grimly, "about the baby?"

Robin looked down.

"I think so," he nodded, "she was crying. Asking what happened."

Gene's heart was sinking fast.

"Where's the bloody justice, eh?" he mumbled.

The door of Alex's room opened and a doctor walked out, checking notes on her clipboard as she did so.

"Doc, what's the news?" Gene asked immediately

"You are…?" the doctor asked.

"She's me better half," Gene told her.

"Alright," the doctor looked at her notes. "well, Alex is asleep at the moment but the sedation should be wearing off soon. Then we'll know a little more. She had a gunshot wound to the chest… we removed the bullet and cleaned the wound. She'll have a scar –"

"- to add to her collection," Gene mumbled sadly.

"- But it came out cleanly," the doctor told him, "we're treating her with antibiotics to prevent infection."

"What about the drugs?" Gene asked bluntly.

"We're running some tests to find out what she was injected with," the doctor told him, "in the meanwhile her vital signs seem to be stabilising so she should be out of the woods now."

Gene nodded as the doctor smiled and walked away. He turned to the open door and saw Alex; pale and asleep in her hospital bed. He closed his eyes, pulling his jaw into a firm line and breathed in deeply. He walked into the room. He'd waited for this moment for months on end, but the second he saw her face, her eyes closed and her skin so pale, he started to shake just a little. No one would even have noticed, but _he_ did. He cursed himself for it. He was feeling horribly anxious. It wasn't like him. He was uncharacteristically lost for words and felt as though he wanted to run from the room. It took a lot for Gene to feel daunted by something – he could face the most hardened of criminals and look them in the eye without blinking, he could stare down the barrel of a gun and feel no fear, but the thought of having to tell Alex that their baby was no longer with them… the thought of having that conversation terrified him beyond compare.

He remembered how scared he'd been at the thought of becoming a father at first and how quickly that had changed. he'd been through such a bloody roller-coaster since Alex disappeared; knowing the baby had 'disappeared' too, then discovering that it had somehow travelled to the real world with Alex, and now -

He turned and left the room. He couldn't face it. Not yet. He couldn't stand to watch Alex's heart breaking.

_"Gene?"_

Gene didn't stop. He heard Simon call his name but he couldn't stop himself from marching straight past. He'd made it halfway down the corridor, ignoring the calls behind him until finally someone grabbed the back of his jacket and said crossly,

"_Hey!_ Stop walking away from me!"

"Hands off the jacket, Shoebury," Gene said.

"What are you _doing_, Gene?" cried Simon, "you've waited months for this and you're walking _away?"_

"I need to clear me head," Gene told him.

"I thought your manic driving was supposed to do that."

"Well it didn't work, _did_ it?" Gene snapped.

"I don't understand you," cried Simon, "for the last nine months you've been desperate for Alex to come back, pickling yourself, almost getting fired, slacking on the job… you drove two hundred _miles _to the pub because you didn't want to carry on here without her! I've given you my bloody couch, I've followed you to Manchester to stop you making a big mistake, I've spent three quarters of a year listening to you talking about her, pulling you out of the plant pots when you've been pissed, covering for you when Fletcher's been on your case… she's _back_, Gene. Why the hell are you walking away?"

Gene stared at Simon with angry eyes. How _dare_ he confront him that way? How _dare_ he spill so much bile and fury in his direction? How _dare_ he –

How dare he point out the truth?

"Because," Gene hissed, "I don't have the faintest flipping clue what to _say_ to her." He saw Simon's expression change and soften slightly. He didn't like seeing the pity in his eyes, "Alright, Shoebury? I looked at her and I didn't know where to begin. She's going to ask me where the sprog is. Or, if she _knows_, she's going to be telling me. And either way, I don't know what the bleeding hell to say to her because whatever I _do_, the first words I say re going to break her heart. That's why I don't do girly feelings, Simon; because I never wanted to be in this spot, right here."

Simon stared at Gene and wished that there was a magic answer, but there wasn't. He wished that he had the solution; a way out of the heartbreak, but he didn't.

"You can't outrun it forever," he said seriously, "if you walk away now you'll only have to work it out later. And I _know_ you don't _do_ 'girly feelings', for god's sake, you remind me often enough. So _don't_ do girly feelings. Be the rock Alex needs to get through this. Be Gene Hunt. That's all she wants from you, and that's all you have to give her. She just needs _you."_

Gene swallowed. Simon wasn't telling him anything he didn't know. But hearing it from someone else certainly made it harder to ignore.

"So, Simon," he began quietly, "since you have all the answers –"

"I certainly don't."

"- tell me." He looked at him seriously, "what do I do now? Me kid's gone. Where do we go from here?"

Simon stared back at Gene. A conversation from two hundred miles away came back to his mind from a B&B up in Manchester. He could still hear Gene's voice in his head, asking the question that was driving him crazy - _"So what do I do, Simon? If Bolly gets back without the sprog? How do we recover from that?"_ And now Gene's worst case scenario had come true

"Exactly what I told you a week ago, Gene," he said quietly, "you take her to bed and you try again."

Gene closed his eyes. Despite everything he gave a quiet, snorting laugh through his nose. He remembered that conversation too.

"That was weird enough coming from the mouth o'Shoebury the first time," he said, "even more inappropriate now I know whose cannon fired off half yer DNA."

Simon cringed.

"Too soon, Gene, _way, way_ too soon," he covered his ears, "in fact, let's just say it's _always_ going to be too soon, OK?"

Gene nodded.

"Deal," he agreed.

Simon raised an eyebrow.

"So?" he prompted.

Gene stared beyond Simon to the corridor he'd moved away from so quickly and the open door it contained. He drew in his breath and pulled himself up straight, then he nodded slowly.

"Do me a favour, Simon," he said, "take Batman to the pictures or something. Don't need people hanging around outside the room. Think we could do with some privacy."

"Sure," Simon said quietly, "although what cinemas you expect to be open at this time of night…"

"Ones we'd probably be closing down for not having the correct adult licence," Gene told him, "just bugger off."

"Right," Simon agreed. He gave Gene a tiny smile. "You're going to be fine, you know."

"Not only do I not do girly feelings but I am not allowing _you_ to do girly feelings either," Gene told him, "so that's enough of that. Bugger off,"

"Fine," Simon rolled his eyes. He started to walk away, collecting Robin and removing him from the corridor on his travels.

Gene watched them leaving. He took a deep breath, pulled his strength together and paced with speed back to Alex's hospital room. No, it wasn't going to be easy. Yes, it was going to hurt. But they were strong enough to come through this together. His momentary panic wasn't exactly behind him but he knew that he had to overcome it. Alex needed him, they needed each other – and thanks to Kim they were together again. They had a second chance – they could pick up the pieces and start all over again – and this time Gene could live without fear of her waking up again.

She was firmly rooted in his world – _their_ world – and _she_ was going nowhere.

**~xXx~**

_#...Happiness_

_More or less_

_It's just a change in me_

_Something in my liberty_

_Oh, my, my_

_Happiness_

_Coming and going_

_I watch you look at me_

_Watch my fever growing_

_I know just where I am_

_But how many corners do I have to turn?_

_How many times do I have to learn_

_All the love I have is in my mind?_

_Well, I'm a lucky man_

_With fire in my hands_

_Happiness_

_Something in my own place_

_I'm standing naked_

_Smiling, I feel no disgrace_

_With who I am_

_Happiness_

_Coming and going_

_I watch you look at me_

_Watch my fever growing_

_I know just who I am_

_But how many corners do I have to turn?_

_How many times do I have to learn_

_All the love I have is in my mind?_

_I hope you understand_

_I hope you understand_

_Gotta love that'll never die_

_Happiness_

_More or less_

_It's just a change in me_

_Something in my liberty_

_Happiness_

_Coming and going_

_I watch you look at me_

_Watch my fever growing_

_I know_

_Oh, my, my_

_Oh, my, my_

_Oh, my, my_

_Oh, my, my_

_Gotta love that'll never die_

_Gotta love that'll never die_

_No, no_

_I'm a lucky man…#_

_~ Lucky Man – The Verve_


	22. Chapter 20: Together Again

**Chapter Twenty**

Alex's senses began to slip back into place one by one. The first thing that came back to her was the pain; the searing, stinging pain in her chest where the bullet had been just a short time before. There was pain in her head too; it thumped and throbbed as though she'd been on a week-long bender. There was a heavy ache running though her limbs that made it difficult for her to force herself to open her eyes.

The next thing she noticed were the sounds; the steady beeping of a nearby machine, the sound of voices and footsteps passing by in a busy corridor outside and deep, anxious breathing beside her.

Her sense of smell kicked in; the horrid, clinical scent of a hospital; a mix of bleach, disinfectant and dead people. Ugh, nowhere else on earth smelt quite the same as a hospital. And that was a _good_ thing. She hated that smell. It made her feel fretful and keen to escape it. Worse than that, she was fairly sure she could smell hospital food somewhere in the distance.

And then there was the manstink.

As a familiar scent caught her she slowly opened her eyes. She knew that smell. It was a smell that she knew better than any other. The last time she'd caught that scent had been on that very strange night in the hospital car park, sleeping in the Fiat. Back then she'd thought it was all in her mind. This time, she knew that it was real.

She tried to adjust to the light but the clinical lighting on the ceiling was overpowering and it took her several minutes to be able to see more than a white haze cast over a few silhouettes. She squinted and moved her head from side to side until the room started to come slowly into focus and a sudden hand moved forward to grasp her own. The gesture caught her by surprise and she turned to the side to see who the hand belonged to.

As though there had ever been any doubt.

"_Bolly,"_ the voice was one she hadn't heard in so, _so_ long, except in her dreams. That one word, that single moment made all her emotion swell up inside her and threaten to explode.

"Oh my _god,"_ she whispered, her voice broken through pain and shock, "_Gene,"_ she turned as far to his side as she could with the drip in one hand and monitors attached to her in other spots from head to toe. Her eyes fought again to focus on the sight before her. At first Gene seemed like a bit of a blur, a shapeless blob that smelt of manstink and knew her name. But as she blinked and stared his features slowly came into view and the tiniest smile started to appear on her face. "_Gene,"_ she whispered again, "please, _please_ tell me."

"Tell you what?" Gene asked.

"That I'm home?" Alex whispered.

She saw him close his eyes as he bowed his head.

"Yes," he said quietly, "you are, Bols. You're home."

Her eyes closed and a gasped sob of relief came from her lips. Her emotions overwhelmed her. They engulfed her in a shroud of tears and disbelief that her long journey was finally at an end and she was finally back where she belonged. She'd fought so hard and it had taken so long, but finally there she was, back where she belonged. She felt Gene's hand squeezing hers and she did her best to return the gesture but her muscles felt so weak that she wasn't sure if he could even even feel it. "I feel so tired," she whispered.

"If you _will_ go bloody time-hopping," Gene scolded.

"Not my fault," Alex said quietly, her voice scratchy and her throat dry. She focused on his face; on the features she wasn't sure she would ever see again. No, that wasn't true - she'd had faith that she would see them again but sometimes she had hardly dared to believe it. "How did I get here?" she whispered, "Why am I in hospital?"

"Get yerself shot in the chest and that usually leads to one of these places," Gene told her.

"Shot?"

"Good thing you never had implants, you'd have sprung a leak," Gene told her tactfully, pointing to the wound.

"Doesn't make sense," Alex whispered.

"Getting implants? Asked Gene, "well, you don't _need_ them but I'm a modern man so I'd never say no, women's right to choose and all that…"

"You're _not_ a modern man," Alex sighed but there was a smile on her lips, "and you never will be. But that's all part of your charm." She shook her head slightly. "No, Gene, I meant the bullet wound… I was shot in two thousand and twelve. Not here."

Gene couldn't understand at first.

"Well whenever it 'appened they took the bullet out and cleaned you up. Can't blame me for _this_ scar, Bols."

"Why did the wound come with me?" Alex whispered.

"What?"

"I don't understand why I've got the bullet hole," She blinked and stared into his eyes. "When I first came here… I didn't have a bullet in my head, did I?"

Gene hesitated. He swallowed and his eyes moved to the dressing on her chest. He hadn't actually thought of it that way. That _was_ strange. That wasn't quite right. He didn't know what to make of that and the strangeness of the situation worried him. He decided to keep away from that subject until he'd had time to think it through. He had to work out what that meant before he could discuss it properly.

"So Layton found some magic bullets and one came back with you," he said, "important thing is, they got it out yer chest. Now, if you need asny topical ointment rubbing into the area I'm willing to volunteer."

Alex closed her eyes and gave a mock sigh,

"So much for the modern man," she whispered.

Gene leaned closer. He held her hands and stared at her intently as though he was frightened to look away in case she disappeared again from right before him. There was so much he wanted to tell her, he didn't know where to styart.

"I can never do that again, Bolly," he whispered.

"Do what?"

"Do this without you," he held out his palm to indicate the world around them, "I don't like it. It's not right."

"I don't think I'll be going anywhere in a hurry," Alex said quietly.

Gene recalled the tape he'd watched the day before. He remembered Kim's anguished expression as she relieved Alex of the 'life' that threatened her time with Gene. He hung his head a little.

"No," he said, "I know you won't."

Alex looked at Gene and felt her eyes pricking with tears as she remembered something; something she had started to realise before they sedated her. One hand reached down to her stomach, ran across its flat expanse and her face immediately crumpled with pain. "_Oh god,"_ she whispered as her fingers brushed her skin. There was no sign of her growing belly, no bump, no kicks, no little life. "Oh god _Gene,_ no –" she tried to draw breath but it was punctuated by sobs that she couldn't control, "The baby," she whispered, "the baby, it's gone, it's not –" she stared at him as she found herself unable to finish her sentence. She was caught, stricken with panic and desperation and from the expression on Gene's face she wasn't the only one.

He found himself gripping her hand tighter, like he was holding on for dear life. He looked down. She wasn't sure, because she was fairly certain that Gene didn't do tears, but it looked like one droplet fell from his eye to the sheet on the bed.

"_Alex,"_ his voice was quiet and slow. He worked hard to keep his cool. He wanted to give in and to show emotion for once bot he just wouldn't let himself. That wasn't the Gene Hunt way and, like Simon had told him, he had to be the strong one. He had to be her rock. "I know," he whispered, "I _know."_

"What happened?" she whispered, barely able to get out a single word, "the baby was _there_, I know she was; I woke up on the barge and Robin and Simon were there… I had contractions –"

Gene roughly rubbed his face to get rid of any errant tears that threatened to fall.

"No one knows," he said quietly, "but they think… they think the sprog… think it's still alive, but not…" he closed his eyes and this time couldn't quite mask the emotion as one rogue sob escaped, "not _here."_

"_She,"_ Alex whispered, "It… it was a girl."

Gene swallowed. _Fuck_, he wasn't good at this. He really wasn't.

"I know," he whispered, "Batman told me."

"I was still pregnant, Gene," she whispered, "I woke up back there, and the baby came too."

Every word that she spoke tortured Gene a little harder.

"I know," he whispered, "I know, Bolly."

"And I tried, Gene," she couldn't keep her eyes open now. The tears were too strong, "I did everything I could back there when I woke up. I looked after myself, I tried to get as strong as I could so the baby had the best chance possible –"

"_I know, I know,"_ Gene could hardly bare to hear her words. Each one was like a knife plunging into his guts, making him want to curl up in pain.

"She was strong and healthy –"

"_Alex,"_ Gene forced her to look him in the eye, "it's nothing you did. It's nothing you did _or_ didn't do. There's _nothing_ you could have done." He held her hand and squeezed it hard, "_look_ at me, Bolly. I want you to listen." He took a very deep breath. This wasn't easy, not in the slightest. "Shoebury and Batman were right. The only way you could come back and suddenly have a disappearing bump is if the sprog," he paused and took a deep breath, "the _baby_ – _our_ baby, is still alive." He shook his head slightly. "The reason she didn't make it back here isn't because she wasn't strong enough, Bolly. It's because she was strong enough to live. _Over there."_

Alex gulped in her breaths, wishing that she could just go to sleep and wake up to find that everything was different and her baby was still there inside of her. Her heart was pounding and her hand shook as Gene held it in his own.

"I just want my baby," she whispered. She knew how childish that sounded. She knew it was an impossible wish, but it was all she could say. It was all she wanted right then. She'd made it back but they'd lost their baby – what was fair about that? She was surprised to see Gee's eyes glistening with tears that he was fighting back like a pro. She looked away. It was bad enough crying herself. She couldn't face the thought of watching Gene crumble too. He was her constant, her strength, her guv; he was her rock, her lover and her friend. But she never, _ever_ saw him cry. She didn't want there to be a first time.

"Listen to me, Bols," he tried to keep his voice level as he reached out and stroked back her hair, "I'd do anything to change what's happened. I know we both would. But since we can't we need to make the best of what we have. You're back. I didn't think that would ever happen. And to be fair, Drakey, you wouldn't want to see what the Gene Genie has been like flying solo."

"I have kind of seen," Alex whispered. She thought back to her dreams. "I'm so sorry, Gene."

Gene nodded slowly. He had a feeling she'd have seen a little, somehow.

"Me point is," he continued, "I've got you back and that's more than I thought I was ever going to have. And I'm not going to start taking you for granted now. The rest of it… we'll get through it because we have to. And because we're bloody hard bastards."

"Speak for yourself," Alex sniffed with the tiniest smile, not altogether happy about being called a bastard, especially since it wasn't even an armed one this time.

"You know I'm not good at this," Gene told her, "I don't talk about this sort of stuff. Just get on with work, get on with life, leave the _feeling_ stuff to the agony aunt in the back of the TV Quick. So don't blame me for being mixed up and as clumsy as an elephant whose been raiding Layton's stash a, bought two pairs of clogs and gone on a tap-dancing rampage through Canary Wharf. But I'm doing me best. We've been together for an awful lot of years, Bolly. Not that I'm going soft but…" he sighed and let go of her hand to brush the hair from her face instead, "you've changed me. Dragged me into the nineties. Hope I've changed you too." He couldn't help but smirk as he said, "I saw you driving on yer tape."

"What tape?" frowned Alex.

"The one Keats keeps underground," Gene told her, "long story but… I watched you dying more times than I've had hot dinners since you've been gone. Or hot dinners that didn't come from pizza Hut." He shook his head. "You, chasing Layton with Batman in the car. You _must_ have picked up a few things from me too. Sure I saw you pull off some of me favourite moves."

"No one spends fifteen years with Gene Hunt without some modifications to their driving," Alex said quietly, a dry smile fluttering onto her face for a moment.

Gene realised he was getting well and truly off the subject. He tried to pull himself back on course.

"Thing is, Bols," he began, "what's happened… is probably the worst thing that could _ever_ happen. And we have to live with it. We can't change it. And it's so _damn_ unfair. We deserve better than this, of _course_ we bloody do. But it's not going to destroy us because we're too strong for that so we're not going to let it. We've come through too much. _You've_ come through too much." He hung his head a little as he said, "I saw what you had to do to get back here. I'm going to owe Stringer a lifetime's supply of scotch for what she's done for you and I'll _still_ never pay off me debt. But you're here. You're back. So whatever happens, we're going to get through it." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was in serious danger of showing emotion again. "Now, I need to stop talking like a bloody modern man before I turn into Lawrence Llewellyn-Bowen and painting yer hospital room fifty different shades of pink."

There was a tiny smile on Alex's face, even though it was surrounded by layers of tearful sadness. Gene was right. Right then she couldn't process the pain, nor could she imagine ever coming to terms with it, but he was absolutely right – they couldn't let it get the better of them. They couldn't let it beat them. They'd been through too much, over too many years. They'd fought so hard against everything, from the darkness of Keats to the line between life and death to stay together. It was going to be a long, hard journey to put the pieces back together but they would survive because they had each other. That was all they needed.

"Gene?" she couldn't let another moment pass without it being said, even though she knew full well that she was about to use the one word in the whole of the English language that had the power to make Gene uncomfortable, "I love you," she whispered.

Gene was never the best at responding to that. It involved the kind of girly feelings he just didn't do.

"Yeah, me an' all," he said awkwardly, giving his standard response. He glanced at her sideways and knew that wasn't enough any more. He shook his head slowly. _"Love you too,"_ he said quietly, his voice barely audible. Alex closed her eyes as a warmth spread from her chest, through her body.

"Wow," she said quietly, "that only took you sixteen years to say out loud. Maybe there's hope for you yet, _modern man."_

Gene pushed the hair away from her eyes again.

"Just don't expect me to start getting manicures and pedicures and whatever that thing is that involves hot wax and suddenly having hairless balls," he said. As he stared at her forehead something struck him as different. He was used to seeing the scar from the bullet Keats fired at her in Kim's hospital room but suddenly it looked different; older, _faded_, as though several years had passed. His eyes moved across her features. He didn't know why he hadn't seen it before but the scar wasn't the only thing that was different. Her skin was clearer; where he was used to seeing an occasional wrinkle her skin was almost clear; younger, just like when they first met. He closed his eyes for a moment. This was so strange and so surreal; like she was starting over.

Of course – she had no body to return to back in 1997. What else had he expected? This was _Alex 2012;_ the woman he knew and loved in a body that had spent the best past of three and a half years comatose. That was going to take some getting used to, exploring her body all over again. It was a strange prospect and one of those weird quirks that made his world so bizarre to deal with.

The packaging wasn't important. This was still Alex. _Bolly_. The woman he'd shared the last decade and a half of his life with. For all they were going to have to work through the hardest part was over – she was _there_, back there with him. That was the first step. From there on in they would take things one day at a time.

He saw her eyes flutter closed, the medication and trauma to her system sending her into a shallow sleep once again. He would stay by her side as she slept and be there when she woke up. In fact, he hoped he'd never leave her side again. Things were going to be different this time. No more dragging of feet. No more hesitation. No more living half a life together.

A fresh start and an eternity. That's what they had ahead of them now..

**~xXx~**

**2012**

Kim slowly slipped into the chair by Robin's bedside and reached for his hand. It always felt so cold. She rubbed it a little to warm it through as she stared at his face, still motionless and pale.

"So when is it going to be your turn?" she asked him quietly, biting her lip, "I mean, Alex is home now so it's _got_ to be your turn to wake up soon." She looked away sadly. "Unless you're not the one who's supposed to make the journey this time." She swallowed, her hands trembling, "I think I was almost there. Another of those… bloody… _cardiac incidents_." She shook her head. "I feel like I'm following in your footsteps, Rob. I've sent Alex home and had a heart attack. What do I need to do next? Carry Molly off the bloody barge?" she sighed and looked to her wrist. "_And_ my watch has stopped too."

She played with the ring on his finger. She still wished she'd had the chance to give it to him while he was awake.

"So what happens now?" she whispered, "are you coining back or am I going your way? Because whichever way…" she closed her eyes, "it has to happen soon. I need you, Rob. I need you more than ever. This… this has been the hardest thing I've ever done, helping her… I need you. I _need_ you." That wasn't easy for Kim to admit.

She laid her head against his arm and closed her eyes. All she wanted was for him to put his arms around her and tell her everything would be alright. With her head replaying Alex's last moments and a baby in a critical condition down the corridor she felt haunted and desperate for someone to hold her and to make her feel safe once again. For now this was as close as she was going to get.

**~xXx~**

_#...There are times when I look above and beyond_

_There are times when I feel your love around me baby_

_I'll never forget ma' baby_

_There are times when I look above and beyond_

_There are times when I feel your love around me baby_

_I'll never forget ma baby_

_When I feel that I don't belong_

_Draw my strength_

_From the words when you said_

_Hey it's about you baby_

_Look deeper inside you baby_

_Dream about us together again_

_When I want us together again baby_

_I know we'll be together again 'cause_

_Everywhere I go_

_Every smile I see_

_I know you are there_

_Smilin' back at me_

_Dancin' in moonlight_

_I know you are free_

_Cuz' I can see your star_

_Shinin' down on me_

_Always been a true angel to me_

_Now above_

_I can't wait for you to wrap your wings around me baby_

_Wrap them around me baby_

_Sometimes hear you whisperin'_

_No more pain_

_No worries will you ever see now baby_

_I'm so happy for ma baby_

_I dream about us together again_

_When I want us together again baby_

_I know we'll be together again 'cause_

_Everywhere I go_

_Every smile I see_

_I know you are there_

_Smilin' back at me_

_Dancin' in moonlight_

_I know you are free_

_Cuz' I can see your star_

_Shinin' down on me_

_~ Together Again – Janet Jackson_


	23. Chapter 21: You Might Need Somebody

_**A/N: Sorry if updates are a bit slow for a while, my painkillers are giving me migraines (Yeah, I get the irony) so I don't feel like looking at the screen very much. **_

_**Poll is closed – still have a 3-way tie for 2**__**nd**__** place though! Not sure how to decide that! Anyway, the results are now visible on my profile.**_

_**Morgana, can you work out which part of this chapter was inspired by a real life event…? :D**_

_**And jointhehunt, thank you for the best review ever – I laughed so much and I am thrilled that I have managed to make Evan's beard a genuinely scary entity – my work here is done! :D**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter Twenty One**

Gene felt his heart sinking as he stared at Alex. It had been a couple of hours since she woke up from her nap and something wasn't right. There was something strange about her tone, something harsh and cold. He wasn't sure what was happening at first. He thought maybe she was just speaking bluntly because she was still half asleep but as time went on it seemed that she was erecting a barrier around herself, quite instantaneously.

It disturbed Gene to see that. From the moment they moved their friendship on a level to a relationship she had always been open. She knew that in the early days in Gene's world she had kept her feelings and thoughts hidden and covered up for much of the time, unable to share what she was going through, scared by the confusing nature of the world. When they decided to give things a try between them the one thing they had insisted on, both of them, was no more secrets – they needed to be open with each other. And that's how they'd been ever since.

But Alex wasn't reacting in the way that Gene was used to.

Their painful, honest and emotional talk that morning had brought forth so much sadness as they started to come to terms with the fact that Alex's departure from the real world had left their baby behind. It had been hard and heart-wrenching but it had been open and brutally honest. Even Gene, who usually found such matters hard by nature to discuss, had made progress in terms of sharing just a very slightly softer side. But Alex seemed to be heading in the opposite direction.

Since she had woken again she had refused to mention or talk about the pregnancy or the baby at all. If Gene started to bring up the subject she would interrupt and change the subject quickly, or talk over him about something completely different until he just gave up talking. His heart sank as he thought about the change in her. This wasn't his Bolly. This wasn't his open, compassionate, emotional Alex who balanced him out and made such a perfect foil for his brash, harsh and gruff exterior. She was slowly turning into a female Gene before his eyes in a very short space of time. And as he had to change to allow himself to come to terms with what they were going through, the fact that _she_ was shutting it all out worried him a great deal.

"I need to go home," she said, a cold and business-like tone to her voice, "when can I go home?"

Gene wasn't sure that was a good idea, not yet at least. Her wound was still fresh and the test results hadn't come back yet from Layton's injection either.

"We'll ask the doc when he comes to stick a thermometer up yer backside," he said.

Alex leaned back against her pillows.

"I just want to get home," she sighed, "to familiar territory."

Gene hesitated.

"_Familiar_" he repeated, "Erm, yeah. OK." He cringed a little, "when you say 'familiar'…." He looked at her nervously, "I hope what you really mean is _completely bloody different."_

Alex stared at him blankly.

"What?"

Gene exhaled loudly. He knew that he would have to confess sooner or later but he was hoping not to have to do it just yet.

"I, err," he sighed "I let the rent lapse on yer flat," he admitted, "It wasn't that I couldn't afford it, me head was just in such a mess."

"Oh _Gene,"_ Gene couldn't tell if Alex's sigh was sympathetic or withering.

"You disappeared in the middle of the station car park after fifteen years in me world," Gene reminded her, "Think I'm going to be doing normal things like paying rent after that? Think again. I didn't do _anything_ that didn't involve a bottle of scotch and a large dose of self-destruction."

Alex swallowed as she stared at him. She'd known that he had found it difficult after she'd woken up, her dreams had told her as much, but hearing it first hand was hard, especially because she knew how bad Gene was at admitting his failings.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, wishing that there was something more she could have done.

"I moved in with Shoebury," Gene told her, "took over his couch. Been staying there a couple of months when Batman arrived."

Alex swallowed, memories of Robin's shooting coming back to her.

"How long has he been here from your point of view?" she asked.

"Only a week or so," said Gene, "bloody rotten week it's been too. Not his fault though. Well, not _all_ the time anyway." He looked at Alex. "Address in his wallet. He'd been given your old flat. And the whole place has been given a Robin Thomas makeover. Seriously, Lady B, I needed three bottles of Jif to get the geek off the door handles."

"So I'm homeless?" Alex asked anxiously, her stomach churning at the thought of how much had happened while, she was away.

Gene shook his head.

"Did a swap," he said, "I moved back in the flat and Batman got the sofa at Shoebury's."

"Just the sofa?" Alex asked. She felt herself smiling just a little as she saw Gene nod. She'd thought that was the way Robin's decision would go. She'd seen it happening before her eyes as she watched Robin and Kim getting closer. She thought about Kim back in the real world, terrified that his decision had gone the other way, and wished there was a way to let her know.

"Couldn't have been more surprised if Robin had turned up dressed as Bernard Manning," Gene told her, "seems he's _changed lanes."_

"He's done no such thing and that's enough with the euphemisms _already,"_ Alex folded her arms, "dear God, what's Robin been put through with you this past week?"

"Do you mind? I behaved meself better than you'd expect," Gene told her.

Alex pretended to look abashed. She'd give him the benefit of the doubt for now but she'd be double checking with Robin later.

"I'm sorry, Gene," she said, "but honestly, Robin's not changed. It's just… one if those things."

Gene had to admit that he still didn't understand it but if a posh bird like Alex could fall for a bit of rough like him then he supposed anything was possible.

"Well whatever bloody love potion those two drank to end up busting the bed springs together, Robin's on sofa duty and I moved back into the flat. Everything's been designed with _geek_ in mind."

Alex shook her head slowly and closed her eyes. Redecorating was the least of her worries.

"Doesn't matter," she said quietly, "I just want to get out of hospital and go home."

Gene folded his arms and asked uncomfortably,

"How are you feeling?"

"Bored and tired," Alex said quietly.

"I didn't mean in that way," said Gene. He hesitated as he watched her look away. "You can talk about it, you know."

"Talk about what?" Alex asked quietly.

Gene stared at her, wondering what the hell she was playing at.

"You _know_ what," he said.

"Talking's not going to make things better," Alex said stiffly, "and it's not going to change anything."

"You're the bloody psychologist," Gene reminded her, "your whole purpose for being is to make people talk!"

Alex looked at him in shock.

"You actually got that right," she commented.

"I'm trying to do a _lot_ of things right," Gene told her, "but I don't know how were going to get through this if you're going to keep shutting the door in me face."

Alex shook her head slowly and looked down.

"I can't do it right now. Gene," she whispered, "I'm not ready. "

"Maybe I _am_," Gene said gruffly.

They both fell silent; it was a stalemate. Gene just had to be patient, he decided. He knew this wasn't like Alex and that sooner or later she would open up. But in the meantime he'd never felt so helpless.

~xXx~

"Home sweet… _Aaarrggghhhhh!"_ Alex clutched her chest and screamed as a life-sized poster of Lister greeted her, grinning inanely.

"I _warned_ you, Bols," Gene told her.

"You didn't give me _specifics!"_ cried Alex. She eyed the poster warily and shuddered. Maybe it was a good thing she wasn't pregnant any longer. That would have most definitely sent her into labour. She looked accusingly at Gene. "Why didn't you take that down?"

"I didn't want to touch it without an anti-nerd decontamination suit," Gene told her, "I was hoping Batman was going to come and pick it up. Turns out Lister isn't his favourite bloody character, _apparently_. He was quite happy to leave it staring at me and freaking me out."

Alex trudged slowly to the couch and sank into it. It certainly wasn't bad, as far as couches went.

"_Ohh,_ that feels good," she sighed, closing her eyes for a moment.

"All your stuff's in storage," Gene told her, "Didn't let anything go."

Alex gave him a wobbly smile.

"Thank you," she whispered. She stared at him, barely believing that she was back. It was strange but it was such a hugely enormous, _massive_ event, that she couldn't quite cope with it. It felt as though there was nothing she could do or say that could truly reflect the importance of her journey and how desperate she'd been to get back.

She knew she wasn't supposed to have left hospital so soon. The doctors tried every tactic to get her to stay but she couldn't lay there in that cold, sterile room any longer. Her mind was going over and over things she was trying hard not to think about and she needed to escape those blank walls.

"You sure you're OK, Drakey?" Gene asked her with some concern. Out of the harsh hospital lights the paleness of her skin was even clearer to see.

"Now I'm home, I am," she whispered.

Gene sank beside her on the couch and took her hands. He began to look them over, those long, slender fingers that he's missed the touch of with every breath he took. He gave a frown as he realised that she no longer had her ring. Of _course_ she wouldn't – her whole body vanished from 1996, ring and everything, and she'd have woken up in 2011 without it. That gave Gene a sense of anger as well as sadness. How come Stringer could stick a piece of metal on batman's hand in 2012 and it skipped time and space while a ring Alex had been wearing for moths disappeared into the ether? It didn't seem fair.

_Maybe there was a reason for that,_ he found himself thinking. He remembered purchasing the ring –

"_It's not really a traditional engagement ring though," _he'd been advised by Simon.

"_It's not really a traditional engagement,"_ He'd countered.

Back then he had always had the feeling she would recover and awaken one day. He'd always suspected he'd lose her eventually. He'd proposed without letting himself believe that she would be by his side for long enough to actually go through with a wedding. Things were different now. Perhaps the old ring wouldn't even have been appropriate any more? Gene no longer had to worry about Alex leaving his world and knew for certain that he'd get her down the aisle if he had to march her with a police escort.

_New start, new chance, new ring._

He filed that thought to the back of his mind for now. He would have plenty of time for thinking about how to convince someone to help him pick girly jewellery some other time. For now there were more important things to focus on.

"Bolly, I gave up," he found himself admitting, letting out his breath heavily with those words. Alex looked at him, confused.

"I don't understand," she said.

"I just gave up," Gene shook his head, "how many years have I spent doing this job? Put so many people away I should get a bloody _prison_ named after me. But when you went, I didn't care any more."

Alex looked down. She knew none of this had been her fault but that didn't stop her feeling guilty.

"I'm so sorry, Gene," she whispered.

"Didn't even have the heart for throwing people against filing cabinets," Gene told her, "nothing mattered any more. Waited for weeks, hoping you'd come back."

Alex looked at him with a strained expression.

"I got here in the end," she said quietly, "I'm sorry. I did my best."

"You got back. That's what matters," Gene told her.

Alex didn't feel ready for this conversation yet. She'd been through so much the last few months that she need time to adjust inside her mind. She tried to find an excuse, something to get her out of discussing it.

"Listen, Gene, I'm just going to,…" she paused, "I'm just going to the toilet," _as good an excuse as any_, she decided, "now, can you assure me there are no remote controlled models of Starbug about to fly out of the toilet bowl when I sit down?"

"None that I've found so far," Gene shuddered, involuntarily clenching at the thought.

Alex gave him a weak smile and stood up slowly. She still felt weak and her steps were slow as she made her way through. There were a few modifications to the bathroom but certainly nothing that was overly geek-orientated, she was relieved to find. She had seriously expected Arnold Rimmer's face made up of tiles on the wall or a flying saucer lightshade on the ceiling.

She looked at herself in the mirror. It was the first time she'd seen herself since she re-entered the world. She had expected her nineteen-nineties face to stare back at her. Instead, her younger 2012 appearance greeted her in the mirror.

She leaned forward, gently moving her fringe. There was her scar, but it was the one Layton had left her with, not the one Keats had inflicted upon her. She drew back a little, confused and disorientated. Something occurred to her and she began to reach down to the bottom of the shirt she was wearing. She slowly pulled it up and stared in the mirror.

There, low down on her stomach where she had expected to find her scar, she found instead her tattoo; the one that Kim had done for her to make the place where Gene's bullet had left her with a permanent mark. The one that gave her a little taste of Gene's world when she had awoken in her other body. Now that body had come over with her.

"_God,"_ she whispered, running her fingers back and forth across her skin. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. Her scar was gone forever. That had been an important part of her. She knew that Gene still had guilt attached to it and found it hard to see but it was a part of her. Now it had gone forever.

She bit her lip. What would Gene think of the tattoo? She knew he had a lot of choice nicknames for Kim involving her inked body, was she about to be in for the same treatment? He had, of course, never seen her tattoo before; the tiny circle with the letter _G_ inside of it. She still remembered the night she asked Kim to do it for her. It made her smile as she remembered the endless lectures she received in the next day or so about keeping it clean and moisturised.

"_I did,"_ she whispered, "_and it's still perfect."_

She stared on ahead and ran a hand over her flat stomach. There was no sign of a pregnancy now. No sign that she'd ever been expecting at all. She felt a burning sensation in her throat and swallowed hard. She couldn't face thinking about that. Not now. Not yet, she dropped the bottom of her shirt and turned, walking quickly out of the bathroom and back to Gene. He could see a look of sadness on her face and looked at her with concern.

"You alright, Drakey?" he asked.

Alex nodded firmly and sat back down.

"Fine," she said quietly.

"Didn't hear the toilet flush," Gene commented, "Hope you've not dumped a load in there."

"_Gene,"_ Alex cried with a frown.

"So you were just hiding in there?" Gene asked.

Alex looked away.

"I was just fixing my hair," she said quietly.

Gene nodded, even though he didn't believe her. He stared at her, his worry building up inside of him. This really wasn't like Alex. He knew that she had to talk sooner or later, before her emotions reached a crescendo and exploded inside of her. He tried to be patient but he wasn't the patient type. And besides, _he_ needed to talk too.

He had her back, but something wasn't quite _there_. That was hard to reconcile with his happiness.

~xXx~

"You sure you don't want any more of this?"

Gene had gone a little overboard with the takeaway. Cartons of noodles and rice were scattered across the coffee table. Alex hadn't managed to eat very much. She felt guilty for wasting the food but her stomach was unsettled with worry and sadness and she just couldn't force it.

"I'm sorry, Gene," she said quietly "I think I'm too tired to eat." She looked at the clock. It was only half past nine but she truly was exhausted. Her exhaustion was born of working hard to bury her feelings. She had fought to avoid the subject of the baby or even thinking about it all night. Trying to keep something out of her mind had taken all the strength she had left.

"I think it's time we got you to bed," Gene told her.

"As long as the bed doesn't have an X-Files duvet cover over it," sighed Alex.

"No, it doesn't," Gene assured her, "bloody big bed though. Not sure what batman did to deserve such a thing. Bloody _king_ size… they must have expected him to bunk up with the entire crew of Red Dwarf." He reached out to help Alex stand up. She flinched a little as her chest wound hurt and throbbed. "Sorry, Bolly, but your return caught us all by surprise," Gene told her, "your clothes… all your things… they're still in storage."

That was the last thing on Alex's mind.

"That doesn't mater," she said, a tired smile on her lips.

"You can have one of me shirts in bed tonight," Gene told her, "Or raid Batman's wardrobe. He hasn't claimed all his things yet."

"I'm sure I'll find something," Alex sighed.

They walked through to the bedroom together and Alex took a look around. Despite Gene's complaints about the geek factor the room was fairly nice and certainly the amount of sci-fi merchandise was limited. She frowned as a picture on the wall caught her eye and she walked slowly towards it to take a closer look. It was a hand-drawn piece and seemed familiar but Alex couldn't quite place it. She found herself fixated on it, the images and colours.

"Where have I seen this before?" she whispered.

"Some very strange things in this place," Gene told her.

"This isn't strange, it's beautiful," Alex told him. Her fingers brushed the edge of the frame and her mind worked to try to recall where she had seen it before but it just wouldn't come back to her. Finally with a sigh she decided to sleep on it and think again in the morning. She walked to the wardrobe and opened it up to look for something to wear in bed, rummaging through some clothes until she pulled out a T-Shirt.

"Oh, this must be Robin's," she gave a slightly amused laugh as she pulled out a Pokemon T-shirt with a picture of Pikachu on the front. Gene spluttered and almost choked on thin air.

"Yes," he lied, "that's Robin's, that _definitely_ Robin's. That's not mine." He made a slightly angered face as he thought again about the Snorlax he'd almost caught earlier and how Simon's interruption had destroyed his damn concentration. He realised Simon had been right about something though; the anachronisms the world threw up from time to time. It wasn't as though Gene knew what had arrived years too soon but the Alexs and the Simons of the world had commented when something was out of place for its time occasionally. He supposed sometimes there was just a crossed wire. Never mind, in the case of Pokémon at least he got two years' extra practice on the rest of the world.

He sat back on the edge of the bed as he watched Alex with her back to him drop her clothes to the floor and slip her arms into the t-shirt. _Oh_, that did some very strange things to him. How many months had it been since he'd seen that body? How long had it been since he'd been able to just watch Alex doing normal, day to day things like getting ready for bed? How long had it been since he felt her warm body lying beside him? He felt a shiver travel through his body and quickly grabbed a pillow to hide what he felt was an inappropriate reaction for the poor woman's first night back, especially while she was all sore, wounded and exhausted.

She turned around to face him and gave a slightly anxious smile. It was strange but it felt more like the start of their relationship than anything, like they were doing all these things for the first time, all over again.

"What do you think?" she asked, "do I make a suitable Pokémon master?"

With her fairly long 2012 hair falling over one shoulder the end of a word on the shirt was covered up. Gene raised an eyebrow as he saw only the word 'Poke-' remaining across her right breast and wondered if that was an instruction.

"You'll certainly catch something," he commented, stopping short of making a joke about pokeballs. _Save that for the second night, Gene,_ he told himself

They both felt a little nervous and awkward as they climbed into bed together. It felt very much like the first time they'd shared a bed, albeit without the extra-curricular activities. Gene remembered their first night together, back on Alex's old 'pink girly sofa'. Back then he'd been afraid of rolling over and squashing her from the lack of room. Now here they were, climbing into what could only have been a king-size bed and he was worried about the same thing Alex just seemed so pale, scrawny, weakened from the gunshot and the drugs as well as all she'd been through. He was worried about hurting her all over again.

And then, there it was - for both of them; the sensation of a warm body beside theirs. The simple things were ones they'd missed the most. Just feeling someone there beside them at night was something that both had really pined for all the time they were apart. Gene caught her eye as she shuffled down beneath the duvet. He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"God, I bloody missed you," he sighed. He shook his head slightly as though he couldn't believe that she was truly back. "Never knew what a lonely world it was without you until I lost you."

"You've got me now," Alex told him. Although she smiled there was still sadness behind it. That stung Gene's heart to see. He knew it was no reflection on how she felt about him or being back, just that she was supposed to have brought someone else back with her.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk?" he asked her. The dark expression on her face as he said those words was hard to deal with.

"I told you Gene, no," she said coldly.

"Worried about you, Bollinger Knickers," he said grimly.

Alex looked away. She was worried about _herself_, too. But she just wasn't ready to talk. She wasn't sure she ever would be.

"All I want," she whispered, "is to feel you hold me."

Gene stared at her. Somehow he couldn't believe that she didn't need to talk. Not when he could see her eyes were constantly verging on filling with tears. But he didn't want to push her.

"That, I can do," he told her as he wrapped an arm around her torso and pulled her in closer.

She closed her eyes and exhaled at the sensation. His warmth and strength helped her sadness and tears to fade away for a while, even though she knew they were always hovering under the surface, just waiting to return. All those long, lonely nights she had dreamed of this. She'd dreamed about those arms holding her close, protectively, keeping her safe from all that was bad in the world. And now, here they were again, wrapped around her. She'd fought so hard and now she was back. Home sweet home. She let the world fade away around her as she drifted into sleep with Gene beside her. There was nowhere else in the world – or in any other – that she would rather have been.

~xXx~

The sweat dripped from her brow as she awoke with a start, her heart going at a hundred miles an hour in her chest. She panted as her head replayed the nightmare she'd been subjected to. It had only lasted for a few minutes and yet to Alex it felt like hours. The sound of a baby crying, the feeling of it being pulled from her body, the desperation to reach out and hold her child, to take it back from the real world that had claimed it, to hold onto the life that she had protected and nurtured for months.

There were already tears down her face when she woke up. She rubbed them away crossly with the corner of the duvet and sniffed. What had she done to deserve that? As though going through losing her child in such a cruel and unusual way hadn't been enough now she had to relive it through nightmares too?

There was a terrible feeling of darkness lurking in her chest. It was threatening to break out as a flurry of tears and a heart-wrenching sob. She couldn't give in to her emotions. She needed to fight them because if she started crying she didn't think she could ever stop.

She glanced at Gene, watching the covers rise and fall as he breathed in and out, listening to the gentle snores with every breath, watching his face as his head lolled slightly to one side. She breathed in deeply, closed her eyes and tried counting to ten. She had to calm down, for Gene's sake more than anything. She didn't want to wake him up, couldn't stand to think of him worrying about her any more than he already was. That was another reason why she didn't want to talk – she wanted to protect Gene as much as she could. He'd already been through hell from her disappearing. She didn't know very much about what had happened during her absence but she knew enough that she wanted to protect Gene from more heartache. She knew that talking about what had happened would only bring more pain for both of them and she wasn't ready to face that herself yet, let alone to cause Gene to suffer more.

He felt twitchy and anxious after her nightmare. The last thing she wanted to do was to close her eyes and go back to sleep. She didn't want to open herself up to more nightmares. So she quickly slipped out of bed and padded to the bathroom. Maybe that would wake her up a bit and she would shake off the nightmares before she went back to bed, she thought. But as she entered the bathroom and turned on the light she flashedback quite spontaneously to something she sure as hell wasn't expecting to.

She could almost see them there in front of her; herself and Gene on the bathroom floor, waiting for the test to do its business. She quickly closed her eyes and spun around, trying to block out the vision but it was already too late; the memory had burrowed under her skin, eaten away at her, invited the tears back to her eyes.

"_Oh god,"_ she whispered, involuntarily drawing a hand to her stomach. There was no baby there now. Her belly was flat and still, no sign of the kicks that had accompanied her to bed every night or the wriggling baby that had moved and turned inside of her every day. How was she supposed to cope with this? How could she _ever_ cope with what she had lost? How could _Gene? _

She remembered, as much as she tried not to, the conversation they'd had that day; how anxious they both were at the thought of parenthood; Gene with no experience of children and Alex's experience of caring for Molly such a long time ago. They were going to be learning together. They'd talked one another into it despite their own fears. And soon enough, where initially fear and apprehension had stood excitement and anticipation quickly replaced them.

"_Oh god, I miss you, baby,"_ Alex whispered as she sank to the ground. She'd never get to meet her. She'd never even given her a name. She wanted to wait until she was back with Gene to do that. She couldn't have chosen alone. They were supposed to do that together. She shook her head as the darkness engulfed her and suddenly there was no way to hold back the tears. They came forth in loud, angry sobs that she wasn't able to control. Her chest hurt as she shook and her eyes felt raw with tears that just kept falling. There was no stopping them, no holding them back, not even when she heard Gene's footsteps rushing through the flat towards her. She knew she'd woken him with her crying but she couldn't bring herself to stop.

"You silly mare," Gene's tact was as strong as ever. She could barely hear him over her sobbing and hiccupping but she certainly felt his presence as he sank down to his knees by her side. "Come here." Before she could do anything she felt his arms around her neck and her shoulders, pulling her close, holding her tightly. She wanted to protest that she was fine but the evidence spoke volumes against that. Instead she just let the warmth of his arms envelope her as she cried. Something about his strength helped to slowly soothe the raw pain that she felt in her heart and eventually her sobs quietened to a gentle whimpering. "I know the tiles are a pile of bollocks but I didn't think the bathroom décor would get to you _this_ much."

Alex gave a fitful laugh which still contained half a sob within it. She pulled her head gently from his shoulder and wiped her eyes with the bottom of her t-shirt.

"What must you think of me?" she whispered, her nose stuffy from the tears, "first night home and I've flooded the bathroom.

"Better with tears than toilet water," Gene told her.

"True," Alex sniffed.

Gene reached out and pulled off a long string of toilet roll which he handed to Alex and watched her wipe her eyes and nose with a grateful smile.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

Gene stared at her.

"So," he said, "if it's not the bathroom décor that's turned yer face into Niagara Falls then…" he saw her expression falling again. "It's alright, Bolly," he told her, "You don't need to sell it out to me. I think I can have a bloody decent guess."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm so sorry. I tried so hard not to do this."

"What the bloody hell were you trying not to do that for anyway?" Gene scolded, "You're the bleeding psychiatrist, woman!"

Alex was about to correct him but saw a slightly suspicious look on his face.

"You said that wrong on purpose, didn't you?" she scolded.

"Just checking yer reflexes," Gene told her. He brushed the hair from her face and pulled her head against his chest. "Come on, Bolly. Talk to me. Don't come all the way back here and keep yer mouth shut. We're both in this together, remember?"

Alex closed her eyes as she absorbed the literal and metaphorical warmth she drew from Gene. She breathed in deeply and began,

"I don't think I am ever going to get over this, Gene.

"We might _not_ get _over_ it," Gene told her, "but we'll get _through_ it. They're not the same thing - but we'll survive."

"It seems so _bloody_ unfair," she spat angrily, "after everything… you've no idea what it was like, out there. First I woke up in the real world and thought our baby had just vanished. Then suddenly a doctor started poking me in the stomach, took a load of blood and the next thing I knew they were telling me I was still pregnant… well, that I was pregnant, at least. They didn't know that I already _knew_ that." She drew away and looked at him seriously, "It was a _nightmare_. They thought someone had taken advantage of me while I was in a coma."

"I took advantage of yer coma for fifteen years, "Gene commented.

"Not in that way," Alex said crossly, "they thought…" she sighed and shook her head.

"I knew what you were saying, Bols," Gene told her, "Sorry. Yer not the only one finding this bloody hard."

Alex closed her eyes and concentrated on the feeling of Gene's fingers running through her hair.

"They started testing everyone," she said, "trying to get a genetic match, trying to find out who 'attacked' me. It was awful, I had to keep up the lie."

"Yeah, I might have heard something about that," Gene said awkwardly. That was a conversation for another day though.

"They tested all the male doctors and nurses… they even suspected _Robin_," Alex shook her head angrily, "we went through all of that, and then all the hospital appointments, and trying to get strong enough to carry a baby when I'd just come out of a coma… I spent hours just…" she felt a little stupid for saying it but couldn't quite hold back, "just _talking_ to her, telling her about you, telling her about her home and what like would be like when we got back." She drew away from him and looked him in the eye. "It's all been for nothing, Gene… all of that.. It's been for _nothing."_

"No," Gene sad firmly, "no, it hasn't been for nothing."

"Our baby is out there with no parents," Alex whispered, on the verge of more tears, "and there's a mother and father here with no baby."

Gene slipped his fingers between Alex's and squeezed her hand. His eyes focused on the floor as he said,

"It's not been for nothing. Promise you."

"Then why?"

"Found something out recently," Gene cleared his throat, "turns out all those happy clappy '_everything happens for a reason'_ idiot brains were right. Don't know why yet. Don't know why or what or when but there's a reason this had to happen and there's a reason she's over there now. Maybe one day she'll walk right into this station after rounding up the scum of two thousand and fifty nine. Maybe she's going to be the bloody prime minister, I don't know. But she's got 'er own role to play and just because we don't know what it is doesn't make it less important." He sighed and closed his eyes as her continued, "And there's someone who needs her out there."

"Who?" Alex frowned, completely unsure of that. She felt Gene's fingers under her chin as he pulled her face up to look at him.

"Another strong girl who takes after her mother," he said. He felt uncomfortable even talking about it, as though he had no right. "I saw her, Alex. _Molly."_

Alex's eyes opened and she felt the breath vanishing from her lungs.

"_Molly?"_ she whispered.

Gene nodded slowly, looking away. He couldn't quite face looking her in the eye.

"Saw her on your tape," he said, "in yer hospital room. Talk about a chip off the block." He found his breathing deepening to keep his cool. "Looks so much like you, Bols." he rubbed his forehead. "I don't think l I realised until I saw her for meself… how much you've given up for me. To be here."

He felt Alex's eyes upon him and chanced a glance in her direction where conflicting emotions flashed across her face.

"I'm never going to get over the guilt," she admitted, "And I can't pretend it doesn't hurt so, _so_ much to leave her behind, Gene, especially now I've been back there… seen her again… got to know the Molly Drake she's grown into while I've been away…" she swallowed and turned his face towards her, "but," she whispered, her voice breaking as she spoke, "there was someone who needed me more."

Gene fought hard to hold back his own emotions. Sometime he wished he could show them a little more easily but that just wasn't him and never would be, however much he may have adapted as the years went by. He breathed in deeply to keep a check over his emotions and told her,

"There's a part of you out there. That big girl of yours has got a sister now. She'll look at her and she'll see you. And she'll see all the strength and all the fight that her mum had. And that will keep her going."

Alex gave a gasp and a hiccup as she tried and failed to stop herself from crying again.

"God, Gene, you _knew_ this was going to happen," she gasped between sobs, wiping her eyes again on the sodden toilet roll, "You don't _need_ to make me cry more, you know."

"Bolly, I'm serious," he told her and from his tone she could tell that much, "Whatever else happens, that little one's got a big sister who's going to look after her, teach her everything she needs to know, and they'll both survive because you've given them that strength." He rubbed her hand gently between his own as he continued. "Now, as for _us_," he paused as he tried to work out how to phrase it, "as for us, you and me, well, we've learned from her too. Now we know."

"Know what?"

Gene hesitated.

"What we want," he said quietly. His eyes scanned the room and he gave a distant laugh, tinged with sadness, "bloody hell, Bols, remember the two of us, sitting here like a couple of flipping cowards, waiting for yer line to go blue? Don't know which of us was shaking more."

"You," Alex commented.

Gene didn't actually think so, but for the sake of keeping the peace he decided to bite his tongue on that.

"Never thought I'd want that before," Gene told her, "Looked at it all wrong. Too busy thinking about how a bloody baby seat would never fit in me car. But things changed when you pissed on that stick." He cleared his throat gruffly and looked at her. "So, next time… whenever… whenever you're ready… _if_ you're ready," he gave a slight nod as though he wasn't sure how to finish his sentence and wanted her to show that she understood but she carried on staring, waiting for him to deliver the rest of his sentence, "when you want me to ditch me Durex loyalty card… just say the word. And next time, things will be different."

_Next time._ Alex hadn't expected there to be a next time. With the baby not altogether planned, despite Gene's manly bits leading the fight, she hadn't expected to have another opportunity. She stared at him, not sure how to put into words the way she felt. Maybe her emotions were still too mixed up for words anyway, she decided, so instead she reached out and wrapped her arms around him. She could feel another tear sliding down her cheek, _damn it._ She needed to stop doing that.

"_Thank you,"_ she whispered.

Gene held her close for a long time. The bathroom floor was neither the most romantic nor the most comfortable to spend their first night back together but it didn't matter. The 'together' part was the most important bit, after all. And when they eventually left the room and trailed back to bed Alex felt just a little stronger. She knew there would be many more tears and it would take a long time to get past what had happened but they could do it together. It wouldn't be easy, but in this world very little was.

That didn't mean it was impossible though. _Anything_ was possible when they stood side by side.

_~xXx~_

_#...When somebody reaches for your heart_

_Open up and let them through_

_'Coz everybody needs someone around_

_Things can tumble down on you_

_You'll discover when you look around_

_You don't have to be alone_

_Just one lover is all you need to know_

_When you're feeling all alone_

_You might need somebody_

_You might need somebody too_

_(You might need somebody too)_

_You might need somebody_

_You might need somebody too_

_(You might need somebody too)_

_If there is fire stolen in your heart_

_And you're sure it's wrong and right_

_Keep it burning through the cold and I_

_It can warm your lonely nights_

_You might need somebody_

_You might need somebody too_

_(You might need somebody too)_

_You might need somebody_

_You might need somebody too_

_(You might need somebody too)_

_~ You Might Need Somebody – Shola Ama_


	24. Chapter 22: Somewhere

_**A/N: I just wanted to say thank you so much for the reviews and for continuing to follow this story and all the others that have gone before it. Your support really does help inspire me to keep going. I'm feeling quite sentimental as the second anniversary of the end of A2A comes closer. I can't believe two years on I'm still writing the same string of stories that started in Out of the Window. So much for that being a one-shot! I really am glad (and surprised!) that people are still following this thread and have seen how the characters have changed and developed over time. I do hope that the character progression has been realistic considering the timescale they span. It's also funny to note that when I started writing these fics 2 years ago I was a mother of two… and have had two more children in the span of writing them! Anyway, enough mushy sentimentals, on with the story…**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter Twenty Two**

Simon's couch was a harsh opponent as Robin spent yet another night trying to sleep on the damn thing. He tossed and turned, his shoulders bruised from knocking them against the arm and his back aching from the thinly-padded cushions. He had been sleeping there for a week now and still wasn't getting used to it. It had been fine for a night or two but if this was going to be a long term solution then he could see himself becoming sleep-deprived before too long.

He got up with a yawn, sinking his feet to the floor and slowly standing up straight, trying to get rid of all the kinks in his spine from the uncomfortable night he'd spent. God, he was _tired._ It had been a couple of days since he'd last slept. After the stakeout he and Simon had spent most of the next day in the hospital, on alert in case they were needed, then after Alex had managed to get herself discharged they'd gone to the station to wrap up as much to do with Layton's arrest as they could.

Unfortunately, that's where things had started to go seriously downhill.

"_Shit,"_ he cursed as he rubbed his eyes. The events of the previous afternoon and evening slowly came back to him. How the hell had such a thing even happened? It made no more sense now than it had the day before.

Oh _god_… and they were going to have to tell _Gene –_

"Morning," Simon sounded about as bright and rested as Robin did. He slouched into the lounge, his hair a mess and two days worth of stubble on his face.

Robin glanced at him.

"I'd ask if you slept well but I don't think there's much point," he said.

Simon shook his head and rubbed his eyes.

"Shit, we'll have to tell him this morning."

"I know."

Simon hesitated.

"Which of us is going to do it?" he asked.

"Bagsy not me," Robin said quickly.

"Rob, bagsies never worked when we were going out, now you've rejected me they're even less effective.

"Harsh." Robin narrowed his eyes at Simon. They both fell silent, each replaying the events of the day before. Once they'd left the hospital and gone back to the station a slight panic had already begun.

"_What's going on?"_ Simon had asked as alarms were ringing.

"_We've lost two prisoners_," the officer in custody told him.

Simon knew instantly. It was like he had a sixth sense. He didn't need to be told who the two prisoners were.

"_Shit."_

It felt like all he and Robin had said since that moment was the same four-letter word.

No one could give them a decent explanation to what had happened. Keats and Layton had been left cuffed together on Gene's request. While the whole idea had been that Keats would be unable to disappear with Layton watching him, right by his side, no one had even considered the fact that they might _both_ vanish into the ether.

Security footage showed they'd never left their cell. The door was locked, there was no other way they could have made an exit, quite simply one second they were in there and the next they'd gone. Robin was somewhat more disturbed by their disappearance than Simon was. Simon had half expected it; he'd seen Keats vanish into thin air more than once, it wasn't a shock to hear of it happening again, but to Robin it was a terrifying revelation. It wasn't every day you found out someone could seemingly dematerialise at will, after all.

Layton's disappearance, on the other hand, was new territory for both of them.

"This has _never_ happened before," Simon told Robin, desperately trying to wrap his head around it, "Keats waits until there's no one around and _then_ he vanishes. If someone's watching him then he doesn't do it... or _can't_ do it…but Layton was _right there _– that's why Gene insisted they stay chained together."

They'd spent the evening talking over Keats's apparent ability to disappear into thin air, his connection with Layton and what their joint vanishing meant. They talked themselves round in circles and reached no conclusions except not to tell Gene until the next morning.

"Let him and Alex have one night together," Robin had told Simon, "just let them be together for one night before he has to know. Otherwise he might end up roaming the streets, looking for them instead of giving Alex the company she's been yearning for all the time they were apart."

Now it was morning and both had thought of little else but the vanishing suspects all night. Neither had come up with any answers, nor had they managed to resolve their worries about what Keats's latest trick meant.

"Look," Robin conceded, "I think we should go and tell Gene together. That way if he feels the need to do any… filing cabinet business then we each only have a fifty percent chance of getting the treatment."

Simon nodded slowly. It made sense.

"Agreed," he said.

Robin nodded towards the kitchen.

"Do you want any breakfast first?" he asked.

Simon shook his head.

"Not really," he said quietly, "I keep thinking about Keats and Layton, it's not helping my appetite."

"Do you want to get ready to go and talk to Gene then?" Robin asked.

With a slight reluctance Simon nodded.

"Where do you think he'll be?" he asked, "the station?"

"Doubt it," said Robin, "He'll probably be with Alex."

"Alright," Simon started to shuffle back towards his bedroom, "let me get dressed and we'll go straight round."

"Have a shave first," Robin pleaded.

"Why?"

"You're starting to get a bit of an _Evan_ thing going on," Robin shuddered.

~xXx~

"It's my first morning back," Alex pointed out, "aren't you supposed to woo me romantically with bucks fizz and croissants?"

Gene sighed and flipped the bacon in the frying pan.

"You've been staying with bloody Batman too long," he said, "_real_ people need grease in the morning."

Alex smiled distantly as she watched Gene slathering up a slice of bread with tomato ketchup, mentally ticking off all the things she'd missed so much that Gene had already done that morning; the bantering, the classic Gene Hunt fry-up, the hot-breath-in-the-ear wake-up call…

After their emotional talk in the night neither had fallen back to sleep for some time. They both awoke again around nine, each feeling somewhat delicate and tired and rose slowly together. There was a white elephant in the room; neither had mentioned the baby since they had woken, they both felt they'd done all the talking in the night that they were able to for now and needed to take a little time out from the subject to each learn to accept what had happened. But Alex wasn't blocking Gene out any longer and they both knew they could talk about it whenever they needed to. Alex knew that she was going to find herself thinking about her little girl all through the day and it was going to be difficult to focus on anything else. Just for now though she wanted to concentrate on Gene and slowly absorbing the fact that they had been reunited finally. It still felt so surreal to her. She felt thankful and blessed as she watched him burning his finger on a molten tomato.

"Have you cooked enough?" she asked sarcastically, "I think there's a third box of eggs in the fridge you forgot to use…"

Gene began to serve up the food he'd been preparing.

"You need to get some meat on your bones," he told her, "I'm having trouble even _locating_ yer arse at the moment."

"I don't need it stamping for a second time," Alex told him.

A large platter of fried foods appeared in front of her.

"Here," he said, "the Gene Hunt special. The fix-all cure for hangovers and time travel."

Alex lifted her knife and fork.

"You should be running the canteen," she said.

"Me arse isn't big enough," Gene told her. The ringing of the buzzer was the last thing Gene expected or wanted to hear. He frowned and plonked his own plate heavily on the table.

"Unless this is someone coming to forcibly remove that bloody Red Dwarf poster they can bugger right off to Grimsby," he said, marching out to the entrance. He listened the intercom. "What?"

There was a moment's hesitation before a voice said,

_"Gene?"_

"Shoebury," Gene sighed, "apparently giving a man a bit of privacy on his first morning with his returning fiancé isn't a thing that exists in your world."

"_We need to talk to you,"_ Simon's voice sounded urgent and caused Gene to frown.

"Who's the other half of that 'we'?" he asked.

"_Me,"_ Robin's voice was just as anxious, _"let us in, Gene, we've got news."_

Gene closed his eyes and sighed.

"If you can deliver the headlines before me bacon goes cold it would be appreciated," he told them and buzzed them in.

When they arrived at the door a few moments later he felt shocked by their anxious expressions and drawn faces. The bags under their eyes showed him that no one had managed to get a lot of sleep the night before.

"We're really sorry," Robin told him quietly, "we didn't want to disturb you but this is really, _really_ important."

Gene waved them through where they found Alex at the kitchen table, half hidden behind a mountain of fried goodies.

"Hey," Robin felt himself smiling despite the situation as he moved towards her and quite out of the blue wrapped his arms around her neck with relief. After seeing the state of her the day before he'd been so worried about her. He supposed that after he and Kim had spent so long in her company after she'd woken in the real world they'd all forged a friendship that wasn't going to fade out.

"Ouch, mind the wound," Alex flinched, the bullet hole in her chest throbbing.

"Sorry," Robin backed up a little.

"How are you doing, Alex?" Simon asked quietly.

Alex didn't like that question. She didn't want to lie but couldn't bring herself to tell the truth either.

"Surviving," she said eventually.

"Lovely as this little reunion is," Gene began, "I have a full plate and an empty belly, and I wish to reverse those roles. You've got five minutes."

Simon and Robin exchanged a glance. Finally Simon began,

"We've got some news, Gene."

"You said that. Four minutes and forty seconds.

"It's not good."

"Never bloody is."

"Gene, you need to listen," Robin interrupted.

Simon took a deep breath.

"When we went to the station we found something had happened while we were all at the hospital," he said, "I don't know how to tell you this."

"Then don't," sighed Gene, "I can hazard a guess."

Simon hesitated.

"You can?"

"Jimbo's walked through walls again, hadn't he?" Gene asked bluntly.

Simon frowned and looked at Robin who shrugged blankly.

"They… called you?" he guessed, "the station already told you?"

Gene shook his head.

"Nope," he said, flopping into a seat and picking up a sausage on the end of his fork before drowning the bugger in mustard, "lucky guess." He took a big bite, chewed it quickly and gulped it down. "Wouldn't be the first time, would it?"

"You don't seem very… upset," Robin frowned.

"Thing is," Gene began, "he was charged at Fenchurch East. He can vanish all he wants, the charges still stand. He wasn't charged at Fenchurch West. He can't make _this_ one vanish."

"He has made something _else_ vanish though," Robin said awkwardly.

"What do you mean?" Gene frowned.

Simon closed his eyes.

"Layton vanished with him." He said quietly.

Alex had seen enough of Keats to know that handcuffs and cells couldn't contain him. Nor could ex-bikers called Geoff. But the thought of Layton disappearing chilled her to the bone.

"What do you mean?" she demanded.

"They were cuffed together," Robin examined, "and they've both vanished. Wherever Keats went, he took Layton with him, at least temporarily. Where either of them are now, we don't know."

Alex shuddered and swallowed nervously. Even though the Layton who shot her and plunged the needle into her neck was _2012 Layton_ the fact that his 1997 counterpart was behind bars made her feel safe. Suddenly she felt very anxious indeed.

"Layton's on the loose," she whispered.

Gene stared at his breakfast.

"I'm not going to get to eat this, am I?" he asked miserably.

"I'm sure there's someone with a large backside who will give you something to tide you over," Simon told him.

Gene groaned, but there was little he could do about the situation.

"Right," he mumbled as he stood up and grabbed for his coat. He hesitated as he glanced at Alex. "Don't think you should stay here on your own."

"I'm not saying here, I'm coming with you," Alex's reaction wasn't exactly unexpected.

"You're staying here," Gene told her.

"Don't treat me like an invalid, Gene, I can do this."

"I'm _not,"_ Gene told her, "orders from higher up. They've given you a bloody elaborate story, explaining yer disappearance. You're me undercover lover. Been infiltrating Layton's business, apparently. You're not allowed back at the station until you get the word," he lied, "Sorry, Bolly."

"Like I'm going to listen to that," Alex stared to get to her feet.

"You'll _have_ to listen if you want yer old job back," Gene told her, "Sorry, Drake. You're stuck here."

Alex sank angrily back into her chai, in two minds whether to believe Gene or not.

"I'll stay with her," Robin offered.

"I don't need a babysitter!" cried Alex

"Good, I don't feel like babysitting," said Robin, "Just wanted…" he glanced nervously at Simon and Gene behind him, "just wanted to talk… about some stuff… that's all."

Alex wasn't sure what he meant until she saw him clutching the ring on his hand with his right thumb and forefinger. She closed her eyes as she realised what he meant.

"That's OK," she said quietly. She looked at Gene. "You and your undercover lies are off the hook," she said, "I'll stay here."

"Lies?" Gene asked innocently knowing that her documentation had said no such thing about staying away. He decided to leave while he was ahead, "alright Shoebury, let's move before you wear out me carpet." He looked at Robin, "and if you don't remove a certain poster while you're here I'll be rolling it up and shoving it through yer ear so hard it'll core yer brain."

"F-fair enough," Robin said a little nervously.

Alex have a weak smile was she watched Gene and Simon leave, then turned to Robin.

"Well?" she said, "are you going to sit down?"

"No one's going to core my brain if I do, are they?" Robin asked a little anxiously as he sank into a chair.

Alex ignored the question.

"You want to know about Kim," she said quietly, "am I right?" she watched Robin's expression changing, a terribly sad look coming across his face.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I don't mean to use you like some kind of go-between, I just…" he looked at her seriously, "I miss her so much and I'm so worried about her."

"Kim will be fine," Alex told him firmly, "You know what Kim is like. She'd tough. She can cope with anything."

"I'm not so sure," Robin said quietly. He was the only one who ever saw the softer side.

Alex nodded to his hand.

"How did you get the ring?" she asked, quite amazed that it had made its way over.

"God, I don't know," Robin shook his head, "I woke up one morning and it was there, on my finger." He looked at Alex seriously, "I got a message, from Kim. On the TV," he rubbed his forehead, "is it true? She's pregnant?"

Alex nodded.

"She's almost twelve weeks now," she said, "she's coping well. The baby's strong and healthy. One or two complications but they're keeping a close eye on things."

"_Shit,"_ Robin shook his head slowly. It wasn't as though he didn't know – he'd seen the message, of course – but hearing it from Alex made it more real somehow. "Did she really not know? For all that time?"

Alex couldn't help a little smirk.

"If you _will_ insist on stealing all her symptoms then what do you expect?" she said.

Robin felt a little guilty as he looked at Alex. Should he even be mentioning this now? After what she'd been through and what she'd left behind? He bit his lip awkwardly.

"Alex, do you want me to… drop this subject for now?"

Alex shook her head slowly/.

"No. God, no, Robin," she brushed her hair over her shoulder, "whatever's happened to me, I understand you need to know." She paused, "It's no more than you did for Gene, after all, is it?"

Robin shook his head with a tiny smile. That was true. Alex was filling the same role for him that he'd done for Gene, filling in all the blanks from the other side of the line.

"Kim… in her message., she said she was hit by a car…"

Alex nodded.

"Yes, but she's healing well, "she assured him, "A couple of cracked ribs that she's ignored like crazy. You know Kim. You know she's not going to let that get the better of her."

Robin hesitated.

"Does she miss me?" he asked quietly.

Something about Robin's question, the look of sadness and longing on his face and the tone of his voice struck a chord with Alex. She knew how he was feeling. To be separated by worlds from the person you want to be with is the cruellest fate.

"Robin," she looked at him seriously, "She misses you every second of every day." She laid a hand on his arm as she said quietly, "The last thing she said to me before she –" she stopped abruptly. She knew Gene had seen Kim helping her home on one of Keats's tapes but she didn't know if _Robin_ knew, and if not she wasn't sure he was _ready_ to know. "Before I came home," she said instead, "was that she asked me to tell you she loves you." She braced herself for the tears she could already see forming in Robin's eyes. "And she does. She's been by your side every day."

"She does know… does know that it's _her_ I want," he whispered, "doesn't she?"

Alex hesitated. _Shit,_ this was hard. She could only imagine what it had been like for Robin trying to tell Gene all he needed to know.

"Robin, in all honestly, the last time I asked you even _you_ didn't know which way your decision was going to go so Kim's obviously still has worries," she nodded to his hand, " but when two people buy engagement rings for each other secretly on the same day it does help to settle those fears a little."

Robin smiled distantly.

"Woman in the shop kept telling me the ring wasn't _feminine_ enough," he gave a mock grumble.

"Kim doesn't seem to agree," Alex told him.

Robin smiled as he wiped his eyes. He tried hard to keep his emotions in check.

"So" he whispered, "when is it my turn?" he looked Alex. "You're back. When can I go home?"

Alex shook her head slowly.

"I don't know, Robin," she said quietly, "I wish it was that easy. But then if it was I'd have been back here months ago and Gene wouldn't be living in a flat full of Red Dwarf memorabilia."

Robin gave a distant smile.

"Sorry," he said, "I'll move the stuff as soon as I can. I need to start looking for a place of my own. No room for this much stuff at Simon's." he paused. "Even though he'd kill for that poster of Lister."

"There are some very strange things in here," Alex told him, "I found a _lot_ of tattoo magazines. I think they've confused you with Kim. Oh, and I hope you don't mind but I don't have any of my own things at the moment so I borrowed your Pokémon t-shirt in bed last night."

"What Pokémon t-shirt?"

"The one in your wardrobe."

"I don't have a Pokémon t-shirt," Robin frowned.

Alex frowned.

"Well, that's strange then, she said, "Wonder where it came from."

Robin looked at her and bit her lip. He had one more serious question to ask.

"Alex?" he began.

She looked back at him.

"What?"

Robin hesitated.

"Will she be alright, all alone?" he asked quietly.

Alex's heart sank. The thought of Kim being left out there by herself was one she'd been struggling with too.

"I think," she said quietly, "that she'll be fine because Kim is the strongest person I know."

"Funny, she thought the same about you," Robin told her.

Despite exchanging a smile both felt their hearts sink as they united over their hatred for one of the fundamental parts of the world – the fact that it had the power to separate anyone from those they love, one way or another. But seeing Alex back gave Robin the extra push he needed to keep faith that he would return to is own side of the line.

He would find a way. Just like Alex had. And the Lister poster would be nothing but a distant memory

_~xXx~_

_#...There's a place for us_

_Somewhere a place for us_

_Peace and quiet and open air_

_Wait for us somewhere_

_There's a time for us_

_Someday a time for us_

_Time together with time to spare_

_Time to learn, time to care_

_Someday, somewhere_

_We'll find a new way of living_

_We'll find a way of forgiving somewhere_

_Yes, there's a place for each of us_

_A place of peace and quiet_

_And we must try to pursue this place_

_Where love is like a passion that burns like a fire_

_And also fulfilment of two hearts' desire_

_Let our efforts be as determined as that of a little stream_

_That saunters down the hillside seeking its level_

_Only to become a huge river destined to the sea_

_Yes, there's a place for us_

_Somewhere a place for us_

_Hold my hand and were halfway there_

_Hold my hand and I'll take you there_

_Somehow, someday_

_Somewhere_

_Hold my hand and were halfway there_

_Hold my hand and I'll take you there_

_Somehow, someday_

_Somewhere…#_

_~ Somewhere – Pet Shop Boys_


	25. Chapter 23: Say What You Want

**Chapter Twenty Three**

Gene allowed himself to take a step back as he watched Simon taking on a proactive, forceful role he'd never seen him in before; taking charge, organising people in CID, even the new recruits – before Gene even had much of a chance to contribute Simon had sent everyone off searching, harvesting security footage from nearby, researching Layton's contacts to see where he might go next and even going on the latte run.

Gene was impressed. He had never seen this side of Simon before.

"Someone's been taking their efficiency pills," he commented, _"take two before bed and get yer work done in half the time."_

"I was trying to help," Simon said a little anxiously, worried he'd stepped on Gene's toes.

"Help as much as you bloody well want if you're going to work like this," Gene said. Where had _this_ Simon been for the last year? He wasn't the same Simon who'd shied away from his responsibilities all that time, hated every minute of the job, resented the power he'd been given. Finally he was showing himself for the DCI he used to be when he was still alive. Whatever it was about the situation or the matter at hand, Simon seemed to have been spurred into action.

"I've got people checking Layton's known addresses and hangouts," Simon told him, "as well as visiting some of Nailer's old haunts, just in case he's hiding out in one of those. Once Robin gets back he can organise a manhunt with the dogs."

"If those mutts can manage to do something more useful than chewing up a couple of pairs of shoes," said Gene.

"Is there anything I'm forgetting?" asked Simon.

Gene shook his head.

"No, Simon," he said, genuinely impressed, "I think you've got everything covered." He picked up his coat, "which is why I'm leaving this in your capable hands."

Simon looked up, shocked and nervous.

"Oh _no_, that's too much responsibility," he protested.

"I need to get home," Gene told him, "to my role in proceedings – guarding Alex." He slipped his arms into his coat, "Keep me informed."

Simon stared after him as he left the station. That wasn't like Gene at all. Usually he'd be the one keeping a firm hand over proceedings and showing that much faith in Simon's skills was somewhat daunting. Anxious as he was about letting Gene down he also knew that Alex probably needed him more than Fenchurch East did right then.

"I will," he promised.

Gene nodded and left quickly. He just wanted to be back with Alex, to make sure she was alright. The law would be safe enough in Simon's hands. And besides, he needed to make sure Robin removed that poster, pronto-tonto.

~xXx~

Alex was surprised to see Gene arriving back so soon.

"Has he been found already?" she asked hopefully.

"No, but Shoebury's found his bloody work mojo," Gene explained, " he's taken over. The Gene Genie is currently superfluous to requirements." He shot a glare at Robin. _"Poster?"_

"Uh… dealing with it now," Robin said quickly, scrambling to get out of his seat.

Gene quickly took his place and looked mournfully at the cold breakfast still sitting on the table, a pool of congealed fat forming a moat around the sausages.

"So much for first morning luxury," he said.

Alex looked at him seriously.

"Is there any news on Layton or Keats?" she asked.

"Not yet," said Gene, "Jimbo will turn up sooner or later, can't keep his nose out of our business. As for our dear friend Arthur, " he shook his head, "he's too stupid to stay hidden for long. He'll slip up, stick one needle too many in his arm, flog a few pills to the wrong person and find himself with a brand new home, in the middle of HMP Fenchurch. They have some cracking en-suite rooms these days. Good quality buckets an' all."

"_Got it,"_ Robin nervously appeared at the door, waving the rolled up poster in the air.

"Good; now take it to a galaxy far, far away and bugger off back to work. Shoebury wants you to get yer canine friends on the trail."

Robin groaned.

"Oh _great,"_ he mumbled, "my favourite untrained batch of dogs Let's see them sniff out smelly shoes instead." he waved to Alex. "I'll see you later," he said, "and… and thanks."

Alex smiled.

"No problem," she said quietly. She watched him walk away and waited until she heard the front door open and close before she asked,

"Is he not happy with his work?"

"He's just sore because he's got Stringer's old bedroom buddy in his team," said Gene. He saw Alex looking a little confused and explained, "A certain Sharon Granger decided to try her luck in the brand new canine division."

"Robin's got Shaz in his department?" Alex found herself involuntarily pulling a face. "Oh, I bet _that's _comfortable."

Gene rubbed his forehead.

"Come on, Bols, tell me straight. Put an end to this nonsense. Batman and Stringer."

Alex stared, waiting for him to enlarge upon that.

"Yes…?"

"You can't be seriously telling me they're playing Mister and Missus out there?"

Alexsighed.

"Gene, honestly," she began, "I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. She cringed, "seen a bit too much, to be honest." She shuddered. She's seen and heard things that wouldn't have been out of place on the Adult Channel while she was staying with them. "Let's just say my time awake in the real world was even more surreal than anything _this_ world could create."

"I find that hard to believe," said Gene.

"Don't be so certain of that," sighed Alex.

Gene leaned back and folded his arms, looking her in the eye.

"So tell me, Bollyknickers," he began, "what _did_ happen?"

"What do you mean?"

Gene looked a little distant.

"I missed out on months of yer life," he said, "What did you go through over there?"

"Do you really want to know?" Alex asked incredulously.

"Not sure I _want_ to," Gene admitted, "But I know I _need_ to." He sighed and shook his head. "Need to fill in the blanks. Only so much Robin told me."

Alex let out her breath and stared at the table.

"I'm not sure there's much to tell you," she said quietly, "I spent three months filling up a flip chart, trying to get back to you." she glanced at Gene. He didn't seem happy with that explanation. She had a feeling she want going to get away with it that easily. "Look," she said quietly, "Gene, I sent most of the time recovering. Most of my memories of being back in the real world involve trips to and from hospital." She paused and looked away. "It was the end of October when I woke up."

Gene stared at her. Her expression was distant and sad.

"Go on," he grunted.

"I was devastated," Alex told him, unable to meet his eye. She knew if she did she was going to let her emotions free, "I'd lost everything. I was back in a world I didn't belong to any more. I was lucky – I had Robin and Kim to look after me, to keep me sane and help me home. I spent weeks learning to walk again, getting my strength back, just trying to get over the physical side of waking up from my coma."

"Come on, Bols, I know there was more to it than that." Gene reached forward, he turned her face to look at him. "I can see it in yer eyes."

"Why do you think I was looking away?" Alex tried to joke but Gene didn't laugh.

"I want to know," he said insistently.

Alex knew she wasn't going to get away with half-explanations. She had to tell him honestly.

"It was hard, it was bloody _rotten_," she said, her voice turning a little resentful, "I woke up and my body was weak and withered. All I could think about was getting back to you but what chance did I have when I couldn't walk… couldn't talk property… it took a long time to get some strength back. The hospital decided I wasn't allowed any _'shocks'_ so Robin and Kim had to hide more or less _everything_ that had happened in the past year from me while I recovered. Then I discovered Evan was in prison, Keats had tried to kill me while I was unconscious and Robin and Kim were…" she cringed at the memory, "well, let's just say I was introduced to their relationship through the visual medium."

"You, uh," Gene cleared his throat, "you were there for Christmas, weren't you?"

Alex nodded slowly.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't with you for that," she said quietly.

"Batman's bloody _turkey_ almost was," Gene mumbled.

"Gene, what _happened_ with the turkey?" Alex sighed, "Kim and Robin were too traumatised to talk about it properly. All I know is, it caused them to develop a phobia of their oven and to have a _lot_ to drink."

"Not ready to talk about that yet," Gene said.

Alex sighed.

"But you make me talk about _this?"_ she cried.

Gene wanted to get back on track.

"So how did you get back, Bolly?" he asked

"Through blood, sweat and tears," Alex said quietly, "we went to Manchester. I thought I could get back if I…"she closed her eyes, "If I helped you to be at peace,. Out there."

She looked at Gene as he visibly paled and wondered if she should have told him that.

"In what way, _find peace?"_ he asked quietly.

Alex took a deep breath.

"Your body," she whispered, "it was never officially identified. There were several people they thought it may have belonged to but because it happened so long ago…" she swallowed, "they didn't put a lot of time or resources into trying to identify you." she closed her eyes. "I tracked a very distant relative of yours, Gene. She was going to help us get you identified at last. It was her shop where Robin…"

Gene nodded as she trailed off. He could see how this was all coming together.

"So," he said quietly, "When you _didn't_ get back…"

Alex took a deep breath.

"I went back to the drawing board. Or the flip chart in this case. And I found something in the Fiat."

Gene's whole expression changed.

"My _car,"_ he said wistfully, "how _is_ she? Is she still in good condition? Stringer had better be looking after her."

"_Gene,"_ Alex's brow furrowed, "you're more worried about that car than you were about _me!"_

"You don't know what it's like to see yer bloody parking space empty and find out yer car's gone on a long journey by itself!"

Alex closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair.

"Yes, Gene," she said through gritted teeth, "your car is in magnificent condition. Kim is taking good care of it –"

"Of _her,"_ Gene corrected.

"And I am sure she will treat it with the greatest of respect." She raised an eyebrow and waited until Gene seemed convinced by her words.

"Alright," he said, "carry on."

"_Thank_ you," sighed Alex. She tried to remember where she got to. "One night a newspaper appeared in the car, and let's just say it wasn't hot off the press."

Gene frowned as a memory sparked in his head.

"Don't tell me," he said, "would the headline have involved deadly drugs?"

"That's the one," Alex nodded.

"Bugger," Gene sighed, "I accused Bammo of nicking that. Shoved a bloody grape up his nose."

Alex wasn't sure what to say to that. She decided to gloss over it.

"From then on, all I could think was that Layton was my ticket home," she said, "he started this. He was the one to finish it to."

Gene shuddered at her words, their similarity to those spoken by Alex on his TV screen uncanny.

"And you were right," he said.

Alex nodded.

"With a little help from Kim," she whispered. Silence fell between them. Alex could see Gene's concentration on his face as he tried to absorb her words, thinking them over, trying to process them. Eventually her curiosity got the better of her. "Come on then," she prompted, "your turn."

"My turn for what?" Frowned Gene.

"What was life like here while I was gone?"

"Believe me Bols, you don't want to know."

"Of course I do," Alex said quietly, "I worried about you every second I was away."

Gene exhaled loudly as he folded his arms defensively.

"Probably right to," he mumbled, "I wasn't exactly on form without you." He shook his head. "Spent all my time in the company of scotch and beer. Work went down the drain. Fletcher gave me a bollocking, I needed it too. He told me if they caught me pissed one more time, I was on a sabbatical, like it or not." he looked a little ashamed. "Next morning they found me trying to replace you in me affections with the plant pots outside the station."

Alex was torn between letting her heart break or giving in to some inappropriate laughter.

"Oh _Gene,"_ she sighed.

"I think we were getting on quite well too," he said, "til Shoebury interrupted us. " he shook his head. "Word got back to Fletcher and I was out on me ear." He looked at Alex. "For some reason Shoebury was soft enough to take me in, sober me up a bit. Gave me his couch to sleep on and let me borrow his Pizza Hut loyalty card. I suppose he knew what it was like. Felt sorry for me. Somehow they let me back to work but…" he shook his head, "didn't seem much point being there any more." he scratched his nose. "Took a trip to Manchester, looking for me favourite boozer, but bloody Nelson wouldn't let me through. He's been getting ideas above his station since he smothered the place with _I Love London_ merchandise, I'm telling you. He stuck me out the back with Sam bloody Tyler moaning on at me until Simon turned up out the blue waving yer scan at me and dragging me back out the pub."

Alex's eyes opened wider.

"You… _you_ got the scan picture?" she whispered. She remembered the night it vanished. She'd never known what had happened to it. She closed her eyes with a tiny flicker of a smile. At least Gene had seen the picture. It was a tiny thing compared to leaving the baby behind in 2012 but the thought of it melted just a little of the ice in her heart.

"Shoebury talked me into giving it on more night," Gene told her, "and if I hadn't change my mind by the next day then he wouldn't stop me." He looked at Alex cautiously. "Then I got a bombshell dropped on me that changed everything." He wasn't sure he was ready to talk about it yet but before he could decide otherwise the words escaped, "You already know, don't know? About me and Simon?"

Alex looked at him silently for a moment, then pulling her lips into a straight line she nodded.

"Robin told you, didn't he?" she asked quietly.

"I'd already found out, the night before Batman arrived," he told her, "but he confirmed it."

Alex looked at Gene seriously. She could tell from the way he fidgeted in his seat that he was a long way from coming to terms with the news.

"How do you feel about it?" she asked quietly.

"You tell me how I'm supposed to be feeling," he sighed, roughly rubbing his face, "you're the psychologist."

"I'm not _you_ though," Alex said quietly.

Gene closed his eyes and nodded. That was true enough.

"I feel like a bastard," he sighed, "I feel worse than I did when it 'appened. I gave Missus Shoebury a ride on the Gene Genie express and sent her 'ome with a souvenir to remind her of her trip. Before, I was only a bloody cheater. Now I'm an absent father an' all." He put his head in his hands and slumped down in his seat as though realising for the first time all over again. "I screwed Simon's _mother_. I arrested the woman, accused her of pissing on tramps then took her home and put one up her."

"When I asked how you were feeling you were free to give me just the basics you know," Alex frowned, unsure how many more terms for having sex with Mrs Shoebury she could take.

"Sorry," Gene stopped rubbing his face and looked up, not quite daring to catch her eye. "I feel like shit, Bolly. I had a son. I never knew. Then me past came back to haunt me."

Alex gently reached out to touch his arm, bringing him back to reality.

"We couldn't understand how things worked, logically speaking," she said gently, "how this could happen in your world and yet Simon could be born in the real one."

"I bet that was a fun conversation," Gene mumbled, "You, The Metal One and Sci-fi Head."

"Gene, _please_," she managed to catch his eye and wouldn't let him look away, "_talk_ to me."

Gene shook his head slowly.

"If you thought I was going to have a nice easy answer you're wrong," he said, "truth is, I feel like me world's flipped round a hundred and eighty degrees then bitten me on the arse. I don't know how it's possible, Lady B. And I don't know what I'm supposed to do now I suddenly have a son."

"Does Simon know?" she asked.

Gene nodded.

"Even Shoebury figured this one out eventually," he said, flinching a little, "bloody hell, I probably need to stop calling him that."

"And call him what instead?" Alex challenged, "_Mini-Hunt? Hunt the Second?"_

Gene shook his head.

"You've got a point," he sighed.

Alex found herself biting her lip.

"How did Simon take it?" she asked.

"The remains of me black eye will give you a clue," Gene said awkwardly.

Alex closed her eyes ad sighed.

"Gene, I'm sorry," she said quietly. She thought back to Simons earlier visit. "You seem to be on… better terms now?" she asked hopefully.

"Only because we're playing a fun game of burying our 'eads in the sand," Gene told her, "it's all civil until someone thinks about it. Then one of us turns into a drama queen and the other one starts throwing their son and heir against the filing cabinet."

"That's not healthy, you know," Alex told him.

"I know," said Gene, "Almost broke me wrist last time…"

"That's not what I mean."

Gene nodded.

"I know," he admitted.

Alex moved her chair round a little closer.

"You need to talk," she said quietly.

"What do you think I'm bloody doing?" cried Gene, "flapping me lips to entice flies? Human venus bloody flytrap?"

"You and _Simon,_ as you well know."

Gene closed his eyes.

"Not sure either of us are ready for that yet," he said. He fell silent and his expression darkened until he finally spoke again. "My son is a geek."

Alex had a feeling this wouldn't sit well with Gene.

"I know," she said.

"He's a geek of the highest order and a member of the Rainbow Brigade to boot."

Alex nodded.

"I know," she said.

"And he gets attacked by toasters and has computers falling on his head."

Alex looked Gene in the eye.

"None of that takes away from the fact that he's your flesh and blood."

Gene really didn't know how to handle that. Alex's words were still hard to believe and even harder to accept.

"So what am I supposed to do now?" he asked, "Make up for thirty odd years of birthday cards? Backdate the child maintenance?" he sighed. "What are you supposed to do when a grown up bloody son lands on yer doorstep? Can you see me sitting him down for a gutload of fatherly advice?"

Alex's lips twisted into a nostalgic smile.

"I already have," she said quietly. She noticed he confused look on Gene's face, "in _Bask?_ When Simon was trying to get up the nerve to propose to Robin? You certainly did a good impression of someone who knew how to give fatherly advice back then."

Gene looked uncomfortable.

"Must have been having an off-day," he mumbled.

Alex turned his face to make him look her in the eye.

"Gene, Simon's not going to be looking for a father. And I doubt you were trying to seek out a son. But I _do_ know that you've built up a surprisingly strong friendship over the last year, despite all your differences, and I would hate to see you lose that over an uncovered secret." She reached for is hand, which he tried to move away but Alex wasn't going to let him escape that lightly. Grabbing it and squeezing it, she told him, "so talk to him. Sit down, break out the scotch and talk about this like adults. I know it's not going to be an easy thing to do, for _either_ of you, and I have no doubt that Simon will feel the wrath of the filing cabinet at least once. But once you get past the accusations and the name calling and the guilt and the blame –"

"Yer not really selling this to me here, Bolly," Gene frowned.

"- after that the air will be cleared and you can make a fresh start," she concluded, "get back to the friendship you've built."

Gene ran his finger around a plate on the table.

"After Jimbo gave him the director's cut of the full event?" Gene shook his head, "All I am to Simon now is the hairy backside moving up and down over the mental image he has of his mother."

"Give him a chance," said Alex, "give yourselves _both_ a chance. I think you'll be surprised." She got to her feet to clear the abandoned fry-ups away. "Someone drives two hundred miles to pull you out the pub – that's not just a mate. That's a friend. Don't give up that easily."

Gene dropped his head and thought about her words as she carried on clearing the table. Perhaps she had a point. Perhaps with time they could salvage something from the mess the revelations had caused. They'd been treading on eggshells and avoiding the subject completely but ultimately they needed to bring it into the air – and that was something Gene dreaded with a passion. Neither he nor Simon were particularly skilled a communicating honestly without stooping to either verbal or physical attacks. Perhaps they needed a referee?

Either way, he wasn't ready yet, This wasn't the time. But eventually they'd have to have it out and hopefully the air could finally clear. Their friendship had been solid before. Maybe they could survive this.

After all, a psychologist had told him as much.

And hers was an opinion he trusted above anyone's.

_~xXx~_

_#...Twenty seconds on the back time_

_I feel you're on the run_

_Never lived too long to make right_

_I see you're doing fine_

_And when I get that feeling_

_I can no longer slide_

_I can no longer run_

_Ah no no_

_And when I get that feeling_

_I can no longer hide_

_For it's no longer fun_

_Ah no no_

_Well, you can say what you want_

_But it won't change my mind_

_I'll feel the same_

_About you_

_And you can tell me your reasons_

_But it won't change my feelings_

_I'll feel the same_

_About you_

_What I am is what you want of me_

_Yeh, now that I'm not there_

_I took the tables away from you_

_It's turned that I don't care_

_And when I get that feeling_

_I can no longer slide_

_I can no longer run_

_Ah no no_

_And when I get that feeling_

_I can no longer hide_

_For it's no longer fun_

_Ah no no_

_Well, you can say what you want_

_But it won't change my mind_

_I'll feel the same_

_About you_

_And you can tell me your reasons_

_But it won't change my feelings_

_I'll feel the same_

_About you_

_I've said goodnight_

_Try to sleep tight_

_Ah just dream of me_

_Go close your eyes_

_Cause I've closed mine_

_The sun will shine from time to time_

_Oh, when you dream of me, yeh_

_Well, you can say what you want_

_But it won't change my mind_

_I'll feel the same_

_About you_

_And you can tell me your reasons_

_But it won't change my feelings_

_I'll feel the same_

_About you…#_

_~ Say What You Want - Texas_


	26. Chapter 24: Don't Marry Her

_**A/N: Lest we forget what tomorrow is… anyone else marking the 2 year anniversary of the end of A2A? I'll be posting the winning 'deleted' scene in the evening (at 9pm just to be cheesy!) then torturing myself by watching the last episode. Still extreeeeeemely angry that Alex was dead and got bundled off to the pub as soon as she found out. They need to at least have death counsellors in place in that world!**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter Twenty Four**

Gene groaned and made a rude gesture at the phone as it started to ring.

"I don't think they can see you, Gene," Alex sighed tiredly, all curled up on the couch beside him, her head resting heavily against his chest.

"I can't answer that, I've got too much on me hands already," Gene told her, casually rubbing her thigh.

"You _should_ answer it," Alex told him, "it could be the station. Perhaps there's news on Layton."

Gene hesitated. He listened to the phone as it carried on ringing. Weighing up her words he realised there was a strong possibility that Alex was right. He gave a hefty groan and reluctantly slipped from the couch, letting Alex's head drop with a conspicuous _'oof' _noise along the way.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"You're not," Alex accused.

"We'll conclude this business meeting at the next available opportunity," Gene told her and answered the phone, "What?" He listened for a while, his face growing more confused all the time. "Alright. Alright. I'll be right there. Just, err…." He hesitated, "just try to put down some towels or something. They just had new floors put down in those cells."

Alex looked at him, lightly aghast as he hung up.

"_Towels?"_ she repeated, "put towels _where_ exactly?"

Gene set his jaw firmly, determined not to be shaken by the revelation.

"Some news I wasn't expecting," he said, "You go looking for a rat and you find a vulture instead. Guess who's turned up?" he waited for Alex to guess but she didn't dare. "One of Batman's mutts picked up a trail. Seems someone hadn't been washing 'is feet recently. Found Jimbo thrashing around in a heap behind some bins."

Alex's expression contorted into a mix of fear and confusion.

"What?"

"Sounds like either he's eaten a bar of soap or developed a severe case of rabies. Foaming at the mouth. Spitting like a cat who's had his tail chopped off. They've brought him in but they don't know what to do with 'im. Shoebury wants me down there before they make the final call on the padded ambulance."

"Shit," Alex shuddered, "what's happened to him?"

"Aside from the soap theory, I have no idea," Gene rubbed his forehead, "he started to really lose the plot a few days ago, attacking his own bloody DI in the middle of 'is station. Something's turned 'is temper up a notch… or five"

As he began to pull his coat on Alex got to her feet.

"I think I'll come with you," she said.

"I'd rather you stay away from the Jimbo freak show," Gene told her.

"It's not Jimbo I'm going for," she said. She slipped on her shoes. "I want to see Simon."

"If you want to ask him for clarification on his Red Dwarf spoiler policy it can wait 'til later," Gene told her, "Not allowed in the station, remember?"

"I didn't believe you this morning and I don't believe you now," Alex told him. She gave a withering sigh. "I thought Simon might need someone to talk to."

Gene frowned.

"About me and his mother busting the bedsprings?" he demanded.

"Party, yes," Alex sighed, a little guiltily, "but… I just think he needs someone to talk to. Look what he's going through, Gene – he's found out his mother was unfaithful, the man he's called 'dad' all his life wasn't even his father and the man he's waited fifteen months to reunite with has fallen in love with someone else."

"And stuck a ready meal in her microwave," Gene said tactfully.

"Yes, _and_ that," Alex frowned, "where the hell did _that_ one come from?"

"Just trying to update the _bun in her oven_ thing for the nineties," Gene told her.

"Either way," Alex began with a sigh, "his head must be spinning. And who's he got to talk to? Not you. Certainly not Robin."

She watched as Gene finally nodded.

"Alright, bloody talked me into it," he said, "but you keep away from the cells while Jimbo's drowning in his own rabid saliva."

"I'll stay in CID," Alex promised - the last thing she felt she could stomach was Keats's drool as it was.

"Fine," Gene agreed, "but if he makes one comment about me hairy backside you are under strict instructions to make full use of the filing cabinet."

~xXx~

"How long has he been like this?"

Gene and Simon stood at the open cell door, watching Keats turning in circles on all fours on the ground. There were bursts of laughter that almost rattled their bones and unearthly growls that send a shudder down their spines.

"Uniform picked him up half an hour ago," Simon told him, "he's been in this kind of condition ever since."

"Said anything?" Gene asked.

"Nothing intelligible," Simon shook his head.

Gene took a slight step back as the rabid Keats briefly caught his eye.

"Where'd they find him?" he asked.

"They were scouting round Fenchurch West" said Simon, "he was sheltering behind the dumpsters. They had to don dog-handling gear to get him in the van. They were worried he was going to bite them." He paused. "Actually, it was one of Robin's dogs that sniffed him out in the first place."

"Has the station doctor seen him?" asked Gene.

"Seen him, freaked out, ran away," said Simon.

"Right," Gene folded his arms, "well we can't exactly question him in this state. Call the bloody ambulance and tell them to make sure they coat the thing with rubber."

"Already called them," said Simon, "he'll be taken in for assessment and sectioned if necessary."

"What the bloody hell's he _done?"_ Gene wondered, "downed a few of Layton's goodies?"

"I have no idea," said Simon, "there were no drugs found on him, but that doesn't necessarily rule it out."

"_Hey,"_ A clattering of footsteps behind them resulted in Robin arriving breathlessly by their side, "I got here as soon as I could." He looked past them to the manic Keats, "bloody hell, you weren't kidding."

"I hear one of your mutts actually picked up the scent of a man rather than his odour eaters for once," Gene commented.

Robin bristled slightly.

"_Apparently so,"_ he mumbled.

Gene frowned.

"You'd think you'd be happy yer unit's got it's first success story," he said, "at least they'll stop calling them the Hopeless Hounds."

"They don't, do they?" Robin cried in alarm.

Gene hesitated.

"No, they don't," he admitted.

Robin closed his eyes for a second and sighed.

"Not in the mood for this," he muttered.

Gene looked at him curiously, then gave a slight smirk.

"Oh,_ I_ get it," he said.

"Get what?"

"I think I've figured out which of yer furry fanatics caught the scent," said Gene.

"Don't know what you're talking about," Robin mumbled.

"So it wouldn't be a certain WPC Granger then?" he asked. Robin's silent, dark expression told him he'd hit the nail right on the head. "Bless your little jealous cotton socks."

"_Shut up,"_ Robin hissed. He wanted to disappear into a hole. He wanted a team of moles to work together to tunnel under the station at that precise moment and cause the floor to cave in right below him. He knew full well his stupid his jealousy was. Not only was Kim on the other side of the line but as far as Shaz knew she was _dead_. But he couldn't help it. He felt himself reddening in the face as he folded his arms and turned his back slightly to Gene.

Simon raised an eyebrow.

"You're working with Shaz?" he asked.

"Trying to avoid, more like," Robin muttered.

Simon noted with some smugness the jealousy in Robin's voice. If he wasn't already turning red he'd have been turning green. He was just about to press the matter further when Keats caught a glimpse of Robin in the doorway and exploded in a hateful eruption of bile and fury.

_"You,"_ he hissed and spat, his eyes flashing with malevolence, "_you_ turned me this way!"

He scrambled to his feet and gave a wild dash towards the door. To Robin it called to mind the fast zombies from _28 Days Later_ and he froze on the he spot, unable to move or even to breathe. Gene's reflexes were fast and after grabbing Robin with one hand to pull him backwards he slammed the door with the other. Keats pressed himself up against it, snarling through the small window,

"All your fault! _All your fault_! You're _dead_, Robin. You're fucking _dead!"_

Even though the reinforced glass muffled his words slightly they didn't muffle the fear they induced. Robin swallowed hard, a lump of fear in his throat, and took a step shakily backwards. He watched transfixed by fear as Keats made cutthroat motions at him through the window, his teeth gnashing and his face reddening with anger.

"Holy _fuck,"_ Robin breathed. He'd never seen such madness in his life, and he knew people who liked _Evan_. He was surprised by a hand on his arm from Simon and glanced at him, unable to work out whether Simon was trying to reassure him or needed reassurance himself.

"He _has_ to have taken something," Simon said shakily, "I can't think why else… I mean, we've seen him losing the plot before but he's never…"

"You think he might be on something?" Robin asked quietly.

"They didn't find anything, but –" Simon shrugged nervously.

"He did start using drugs when he was in Layton's body," Robin said quietly, "I suppose he had Layton's addiction as well as his memories."

"Maybe this is a throwback," Simon said quietly.

Keats briefly disappeared from the window then popped back up like an angry dog barking at an intruder.

"Just because I can't get you from in here," he spat at Robin, "doesn't mean I won't find a way. I'll get to you for the other side, _Robin."_

"You're staying on _that_ side of the door, Jimbo," Gene told him.

"I don't mean the other side of the door," Keats spat furiously. His eyes were fixed on Robin's, "I'll get to you from the other side of the line. Just wait. " There was a manic smile on his face now, "_Other side of the line, Robin._ You think you're safe there but you're not. I'll find a way, believe me. I'll get a gun to that head."

The three observers backed away as Keats slowly slipped out of view and returned to a heap on the floor, shaking with wild bursts of laughter. Robin could hardly keep upright, his limbs were trembling so much. He played Keats's threats over and over in his head.

"What the hell did he mean?" he whispered.

"He's lost the plot, Batman," said Gene, "he was talking from the bottom of the compost heap. Doesn't mean a thing."

"No, he definitely meant something," Robin whispered.

"I think you need to get as far away from the rabid one as possible," Gene told him, "get back out on the trail of Layton, catch the bugger and ask him what Jimbo's been sticking in his arm."

Robin took a few moments to respond. He felt shaky and scared, but finally pulled himself together.

"Right," he said quietly. He knew he was shaking as he turned and walked away. He hoped Simon and Gene didn't notice. This was quickly getting too much for him. He knew that sooner or later he was going to run into Keats but never had he imagined receiving such a feral response.

Simon watched until Robin was out of sight, then turned to Gene.

"What the _fuck_ was all _that_ about?" he hissed, jabbing a finger towards the cell.

Gene stared at the doorway, unable to look at Simon. He didn't want him to know how deeply Keats's behaviour had shocked him. He knew if anyone saw how disturbed he'd been then they were likely to panic, and that was the last thing he wanted.

"Sounds like he might have been at Layton's stash after all," he said stiffly, "hospital will run some tests and see what he's taken. Maybe it'll knock him out for a bit and give us some peace and quiet."

"What did he mean about getting Robin from the other side?" Simon asked anxiously.

"He doesn't mean anything by anything," said Gene, "look at him. He's turned into a spitting swamp monster. He's got a severe case of the _brainless wonders_. He's gone in for a lobotomy. Ignore the bugger."

Simon wasn't so sure but then again he'd never seen Keats behaving this way. He certainly didn't seem to be making a lot of sense anyway, that was certain. He tried very hard not to think about it too much, or he would only drive himself crazy. He shook his head a little as though to get rid of all thoughts of Keats before he asked Gene,

"Is Robin really working with Shaz?"

Gene nodded and reached for his flask. He needed something to take the edge off the Keats situation.

"Granger's gone to the dogs," he commented, even though he knew the joke was rubbish.

"And he knows about Shaz and Kim?" Simon asked. He already knew the answer – there had been little doubt about it from Robin's reaction – but he wanted to be sure.

"Whatever gave your _that_ idea?" Gene rolled his eyes.

Simon hesitated.

"So if… if Kim ever came back here," Simon tried and failed to sound casual and nonchalant, "what do you think would happen?"

Gene groaned and took a swig from his flask.

"This isn't a conversation for the custody corridors," he said.

"I just want a simple answer," said Simon, "not a full-blown investigation."

Gene closed his eyes and sighed,.

"Alright, listen," he began quietly, "it's not as simple as that. Stringer '_died'_. We had a funeral for her. She's not going to suddenly appear again like nothing ever happened. On top of that, she went home to two thousand and three. She only left _here_ nine months ago. You want to explain to Granger why her dead flame is back with an extra decade of wrinkles in her forehead?" He rubbed his head. Sometimes his world was too damn complicated, "_If_ Stringer comes back one day – and I wouldn't be surprised to see that – then it wouldn't be for years, Shoebury. Like you." he handed Simon the flask because he looked as though he needed it, "you died too. Out there, where you were, it was only months before you came back, but here… you arrived ten years on. Enough time had passed that most people around here never knew you. Those who did bought the undercover line. If you'd have turned up after a few months there would be too many questions."

"So," Simon tried to figure things out, "if Robin never made it back to the real world, he wouldn't see Kim again for… what, ten years or something?"

"Not at this station, anyway," said Gene, "but that's enough for this conversation. I don't like where it's heading."

"I didn't mean anything," Simon lied.

"Give it up, Shoebury," Gene told him, "let it go."

"Gene, I'm not –"

"Stop speculating about how many years you've got to win him back or how to fix Shaz and Kim up on a date across the years," Gene told hi sternly, "that's not your call." He took his flask back and screwed on the lid. "By the way, you're needed in my office. Someone wants to see you."

"Who?" frowned Simon.

"The population of Luxembourg," said Gene, "go and bloody see."

Simon shook his head and turned to leave. It was only half past two and already the day had been one of the most bizarre on record. His thoughts flew around his head – crazed Keats, Robin, Kim, Shaz – a massive jumble of fear and angst that wouldn't have been out of place in his teenage years.

"Maybe there will finally be a normal day in this world," he muttered to himself. But as the angered howls of a crazed Keats faded into the distance with each step he realised it wasn't going to happen any time soon.

_~xXx~_

_#…Think of you with pipe and slippers_

_Think of her in bed_

_Laying there just watching telly_

_Think of me instead_

_I'll never grow so old and flabby_

_That could never be_

_Don't marry her, have me_

_And your love life shines like cardboard_

_But your work shoes are glistening_

_She's a PhD in "I told you so"_

_You've a knighthood in "I'm not listening"_

_She'll grab your sweaty bollocks_

_Then slowly raise her knee_

_Don't marry her, have me_

_And the Sunday sun shines down on San Francisco bay_

_And you realise you can't make it anyway_

_You have to wash the car_

_Take the kiddies to the park_

_Don't marry her, have me_

_Those lovely Sunday mornings_

_With breakfast brought in bed_

_Those blackbirds look like knitting needles_

_Trying to peck your head_

_Those birds will peck your soul out_

_And throw away the key_

_Don't marry her,have me_

_And the kitchen's always tidy_

_And the bathroom's always clean_

_She's a diploma in "just hiding things"_

_You've a first in low esteem_

_When your socks smell of angels_

_But your life smells of brie_

_Don't marry her, have me_

_And the Sunday sun shines down on San Francisco bay_

_And you realise you can't make it anyway_

_You have to wash the car_

_Take the kiddies to the park_

_Don't marry her, have me_

_And the Sunday sun shines down on San Francisco bay_

_And you realise you can't make it anyway_

_You have to wash the car_

_Take the kiddies to the park_

_Don't marry her ,have me…#_

_~ Don't Marry Her – The Beautiful South_


	27. Chapter 25: My Father's Son

_**A/N: It's that day…. Two years ago…. No, wait, I'm saving that for the end of the chapter :P But just to say I'm going to be posting the winning 'missing' scene this evening at 9, and it is going to be crap in the highest order because I cannot write straight smut for ANYTHING! …'I did my best and that's what matters…', so they say (patronisingly!) :P**_

_**As for this fic, be warned the second climax to the story (because I can't seem to just have one per fic :P) is about to strike with the build-up tomorrow. Tissue warnings issued. Also, advised kit to protect yourself from manic Keats includes a baseball bat, a pair of thick leather gloves and photos of Kim to distract him while you call the men in white coats. Onwards and upwards!**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter Twenty Five**

Alex felt like her heart was going to explode. Being back in CID, walking through the office she knew so well, seeing familiar faces and hearing familiar voices made her feel warm through and through. God, she had missed it so much. Her fingers danced over desks and slowly skimmed the backs of chairs. Everything that she touched was solid and tangible, as real as things could ever get, and helped to ground her as she continued to struggle with accepting that she was truly back. She kept worrying that she was about to wake up at any moment and find she'd been dreaming.

There was one notable absence as she stared at the empty space where a desk had once stood; Her desk. It belonged to someone else now. Someone else, fifteen years away. She still felt saddened to see the space where it used to sand.

She slowly closed her fingers around the handle of Gene's office door and opened it. The room smelt like Gene. It was a bit like how she imagined a Gene-scented air freshener to smell. She could catch the scent of his aftershave and scotch mixed with a little perspiration and a faint twist of latte. The office looked a little bare; Gene had never properly moved back in after his sabbatical and it showed. He'd always left one foot out of the station, his heart no longer in it after Alex vanished.

She took a seat and leaned back with her eyes closed, just taking in the moment. She was back, back in familiar surroundings, back _home_. Being back at the station helped her to believe that. She didn't know how long she was in the office for before the door opened – she's been so absorbed in her gratitude at the world welcoming her back that she lost track of how much time had elapsed. She turned and gave a slight smile as a somewhat confused Simon entered.

"Oh," he said, raising an eyebrow, "Um… Gene said someone wanted to see me?"

"That was me," Alex said a little nervously. She wasn't completely sure that she wasn't going to poke her nose in where it wasn't wanted. But then again, that had never stopped her before and things usually worked out alright.

"Oh," Simon looked around for a chair and sat down opposite, "Well… what can I do for you?"

Alex breathed in slowly through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. She leaned forward slightly and said,

"I thought you might need to talk."

"Talk?" Simon frowned, "why?"

"Just thought you might need someone to sound off to," Alex told him, "someone… away from the situation."

Simon hesitated.

"Situation?"

Alex's light and cheerful approach began to change as her expression grew darker

"I know about what happened," she said quietly, "with Gene and your mother."

Simon's whole expression sank. He had been doing a good job of blocking it out all day and now Alex's words had brought it back.

"Oh," he said, his body radically deflating before her. Where a moment earlier he'd sat tall and straight, his body slumped as though his bones were melting. Alex was shocked by how much the mention of the subject had affected him, turning him visibly paler and moving his eyes downward with sadness and bitterness.

"I found out before I came back," she said quietly, "there was… DNA testing done on my baby. The hospital had jumped to awful conclusions and I couldn't tell them the truth. There were no direct matches but when they started searching for partial matches one name came up."

Simon briefly caught her eye.

"Mine," he said quietly.

Alex nodded slowly.

"It's what was called a familial match," she said quietly, "between two close family members."

Simon stared at the ground.

"Have you seen the _tape_ yet?" he asked as though it was a foregone conclusion that she would be shown it at some point.

Alex shook her head.

"I wouldn't watch it if anyone asked me to, Simon, that's private," she said quietly, "it was a private moment that happened between two people decades ago. You shouldn't have been shown the tape either, but of course that was the whole point. Keats wanted to provoke the worst response he could to the news and decided a video was the most effective way to make you self-destruct." She paused, "am I right?"

Simon carried on staring at the ground. He hadn't really thought about it in those terms before.

"Doesn't change the fact that Gene slept with my mother," he said quietly.

"No, I know that," Alex said patiently. She sighed. "Simon, I'm worried about you. I'm worried about _Gene_. I've seen you become friends and build up respect for each other, I really don't want to see all of that go to waste."

"Alex, I don't see how things can ever go back to the way they were," Simon shook his head, "Not now I know the truth. I find it hard to even look him in the face sometimes."

"He's still the same person you got to know over the past year. He made one mistake and he has paid the price in guilt ten times over. He's just as scared and confused as you are."

"I doubt that."

"He had no idea that he had a son out there, and certainly didn't expect to find it was _you_. He's slowly torturing himself to pieces about it."

"Alex, I appreciate what you're trying to do but if you're expecting a reconciliation then it's not going to happen. We're being… _civil_. And that's as much as we're going to be."

"I know you drove two hundred miles to pull Gene back out the pub," Alex told him, "that's a real friendship."

"Except we were never _friends_, we were apparently father and son," Simon said bitterly, "you learn that about yourself and you can never go back."

"It's clear that you're still angry," Alex pointed out, "and of course you have every right to be, But when that anger fades you'll have a chance to work this through.

"I don't think I want to," Simon said quietly, "I don't think I can get past this."

"Can't, or don't want to?" Alex challenged.

"Look, don't lecture me," Simon said crossly, "you've no idea what it's like. Have you ever seen someone you trusted implicitly giving your mother what could only be described as _a good seeing to?"_

"Yes, I have actually!" Alex finally raised her voice. Simon froze, not expecting those words at all. Her expression briefly became angry as she recalled that terrible moment, sixteen years ago where a collection of photographs would be forever emblazoned on her mind, "I have," she said a little more quietly.

Simon stared on. He could believe it.

"You…. have?" he asked.

Alex nodded slowly.

"My mother," she said quietly, "and Evan."

"_Shit,"_ Simon closed his eyes. He'd heard a few things from Robin about the reason behind Layton blackmailing Evan but had never really thought about how it paralleled the situation he was in. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. He stared to feel guilty. He'd been whining and whinging like a spoilt child, and he knew it, but the truth about Gene had scarred him deeply. Now he realised he wasn't the only one who'd ever found out something that had shaken every fibre of his being. "I'm really sorry, Alex." He paused, "But Evan…. He wasn't your…?" he trailed off, unable to bring himself to finish that comment. Luckily Alex understood.

"No," she said, "at least, not as far as I'm aware. I don' think it started until long after I was born." She rubbed her chin. "At least, I don't see any resemblance… I don't need to shave do I?"

Simon gave the tiniest smile.

"No," he promised.

"Good."

Simon looked down. The truth had burned him so deeply inside. He really did need to talk about it and he hadn't realised before how much.

"I always knew one of them had cheated," he said quietly, "when I was a kid… really young… my dad left for a while. They had counselling. Somehow they made it past this and…" he shook his head, "but I never found out which one it was. I never asked. I… I kind of always thought it would have been my father, but I didn't dare bring it up. I always had such a fear of infidelity after that. I was terrified f getting into a relationship because I was scared of being betrayed. And then I saw that tape… and I found out that not only was it my mum who betrayed my dad… but the person she'd ended up…" he flinched, he couldn't bring himself to spell it out, "well, it was someone I respected. Looked up to."

"And," Alex wasn't even sure whether to bring it up or not but decided to risk it, "had a bit of a… _crush_ on," she said awkwardly.

Simon's jaw dropped as a look of complete mortification came over him.

"Oh _God,"_ he breathed, raising his hands to his face, "shit, why the _hell_ did you have to bring that up?"

"Because I didn't want you beating yourself up over it forever," Alex told him. She closed her eyes for a moment as she saw the broken pieces of Simon crumbling into dust before her. She recalled the day she confronted him carefully; seeing his behaviour around Gene, watching the way he reacted. Simon had been mortified at the time but Alex had managed to make him understand that she wasn't trying to make him feel bad about it and helped him to realise that part of what he found attractive in Gene was simply the feeling of safety and security that he provided.

"I can't cope with this," Simon stood up and started to walk towards the door, "I didn't want to talk about any of this in the first place."

"It's called Genetic Sexual Attraction," Alex said quickly to stop him in his tracks. He froze. He didn't know what to do. Very slowly he turned back round and briefly looked Alex in the eye. "And you're not alone," she told him, "it can occur between blood relatives who don't know each other from birth and meet later in life. Often it happens after someone's sought their family members… like looking for their blood family after adoption, but it can also happen between people who don't know they're related."

Simon shuffled uncomfortably.

"Go on," he prompted her to continue.

"You see in that person a number of... physical similarities, likeness in your personality, things in common from sharing the same DNA." Alex tried not to look at him with too much sympathy, she knew that would only anger him, but it was difficult not to when she thought about everything that he'd been through while she'd been in another world. She couldn't stand to see her friends hurting. "You saw something familiar in Gene and misread that as an attraction to him. Coupled with the fact that you were missing Robin, your feelings were projected onto the nearest person instead." She stood up so that she could look him in the eye, "I know you've been going through a nightmare, Simon, but this isn't something to beat yourself up about. It's not as uncommon as you might think. Just put it out of your mind, stop blaming yourself."

Simon wasn't sure what to say at first, it wasn't something he had ever heard of but did explain some things to him.

"I felt like a bloody pervert," he said quietly.

"Well, you're not," Alex told him seriously, "and there was no way that you could have known what was happening."

"Explains some stuff," Simon said quietly. He found himself regressing to half-sentences, like an awkward teenager being caught with a packet of condoms, "wasn't even my type. Couldn't understand."

He sank back into his chair at last so Alex sat down too and moved a little closer.

"When you said you assumed your father was the one who cheated," she said quietly.

"Oh, I feel so _bad_ about that" Simon hung his head, "why did I even assume that? I had no proof either way. All those years in the back of my mind…"

Alex hesitated.

"Perhaps because," she began, "you lost your mother at such an early age, you had so few memories of her that you didn't want to taint them in any way." She saw his expression as he mulled over her words, "whereas with your father… he brought you and your sisters up single-handedly for most of your lives. Deep down you felt that, even if he _had_ cheated on your mum, he'd spent many years making up for that while your mother… would never have had the chance."

Simon closed his eyes for a moment and bowed his head. He nodded slowly as a lone tear trickled down the side of his face. He swallowed hard to stop himself from becoming too emotional.

"Maybe," he whispered.

"But, Simon," Alex leaned forward and began earnestly, "whatever happens you mustn't let this taint the memories you have of your mum. She made _one_ mistake, _one_ night. She wasn't the first."

"I know."

"Nor the last."

Simon bit his lip.

"Is this the part where you remind me about Keats?" he asked.

Alex drew in a deep breath.

"I take it that's been Gene's main argument about getting you to forgive him?" she asked.

"He _may_ have mentioned it," Simon mumbled.

"Everyone makes mistakes," Alex insisted. She didn't want to pull him up over the one that he constantly beat himself up about, "believe me. I've never cheated but I've still made a couple of…" she cringed, "bedroom choices I'm not proud of."

Simon fell silent for a long time. He stared at his hands, at the desk, at the ground – anything that meant he didn't have to look Alex in the eye until finally he said,

"Gene was my friend. I miss that."

"And he can be again," Alex urged him, "but only if you let him. It's your call, Simon. You can let this keep on coming between you or you can choose to get everything out in the open once and for all and to move on."

"Gene already had his hairy arse out in the open," Simon mumbled.

"I should warn you that I have strict instructions about what to do if the subject of Gene's backside comes up," Alex told him. She paused. "You should try talking to him. Properly. _Talking_, not _blaming_."

"Not sure I can face that yet," Simon told her.

"Whenever you're ready."

Simon breathed in deeply. He felt a little awkward talking about things with someone he hadn't seen in many months but it felt so, _so_ good to let some of it out. He'd been bottling up so much stress that it had started to destroy him little by little.

"The genetic thing," he said quietly, "can that work in other ways too?"

"What do you mean?" Alex asked.

"_Keats,"_ Simon's voice was barely loud enough to hear, "I hate what I did. I hate _myself_ for what I did. And the worst part is, I don't know why I did it. To this _day_ I don't know why I did it." He briefly caught Alex's eye. "I…. I guess you know about Robin's father?"

Alex nodded darkly.

"Yes," she said quietly, "and if you're asking me if you were drawn to Keats because he reminded you of Robin, then it's certainly possible. The resemblance – physically – is there."

Simon nodded slowly, keeping his eyes focused on the floor. He knew he would never fully forgive himself for ending up as another notch on Keats's bedpost but at least now he understood a little of why he'd done something so out of character. The more he thought about things the more he started to wonder about something else too.

"Do you think," he began, "that it works in reverse too?"

"I don't know what you mean," frowned Alex. The only thing she could think was that Simon meant he reminded Keats of Gene and that led to the horrifying thought of Keats wishing to get into Gene's pants. She shuddered at the mere concept.

"I mean," Simon began, "maybe Kim could see the resemblance…"

Alex closed her eyes with a sigh.

"Simon –"

"…And Keats had really got her under his spell here…"

"_No_, Simon."

"…For months and months, he was sleeping with her…"

"Simon, I'm sorry but you're wrong."

"…Drugging her, using gas and air, he had her so confused about how she felt about him…"

"You need to listen to me –"

"…that maybe, all those years later, Robin just reminded her of Keats…"

"- because you need to stop trying to talk yourself into believing Robin and Kim are anything but solid –"

"…And she just _mistakenly_ thought she was attracted to him…"

"- Kim is in _love_ with him, Simon," Alex raised her voice to make him listen, "and Robin's in love with Kim." She watched his expression freeze on his face, then fall slowly. "I'm sorry. But you have to understand that it doesn't matter how many ways you try to convince yourself otherwise, they're very strong." She paused as she saw him bristle and look away. "It's not some kind of… mistaken affection, some misplaced attraction, and it doesn't matter how many times you try to talk yourself into believing there's some ulterior motive behind their relationship. There isn't one. There's just love."

Simon shook his head.

"I can't believe that," he said quietly, "it's too weird. It doesn't make any sense, and Robin…." He closed his eyes, "I thought… I thought we were forever."

Alex could see every bit of pain that Simon had been feeling since Robin arrived back in Gene's world. She could see how badly his heart had broken. As wrong as he was to keep looking for excuses and reasons not to believe the relationship was real or ways to break them up it was born only from one thing – the fact that he'd yearned to be reunited with the love of his life for over a year and suddenly the love he'd clung to had been wiped away.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "If there was something I could say to make things better then I would. But I can't lie to you." she sighed and pushed her hair behind her ears, "I just spent the last three months out there in the real world, staying with them, seeing what they were like together, getting to understand how things worked. And I'm not saying I fully understand it even now. But what I do know is that it… just… _does."_

Simon looked at her sadly, barely daring to ask his question.

"What… what are they like together?" he asked, "as a," his voice cracked, "couple?"

Alex sighed.

"Strong," she said quietly, "devoted. They know each other inside out." She paused. "Kim's helped Robin to be a stronger person, and Robin's helped Kim to learn to feel again. She blocked all of that out when she left this world. They joke, they pick on each other all the time, they banter from morning until night and neither ever takes the slightest bit of offence."

"Are you sure you're not thinking of you and Gene?" Simon mumbled, trying to make a joke and not really succeeding. Alex gave a tiny smile regardless.

"It hasn't been easy for them, Simon. They've had a rough time. Imagine how you'd feel if you suddenly found yourself attracted to a woman."

"Unlikely, the only one I know is the one with the massive backside from the canteen," Simon mumbled, his arms folded."

"They've had a lot to deal with," Alex told him, "Molly named them both as representative adults in my care after Evan went to prison. They're not even related to me and they were having to make decisions about my welfare. They went through Evan's trial, Kim divorcing her wife, miscarriages, kidnappings, bleedthroughs and episodes of _Dispatches_ about a cardboard cutouts of Nick Nailer being used for," she gulped, "_immoral purposes."_ She shook her head, "and they grew closer than ever." She took a deep breath. "Robin has never stopped loving you, Simon and he never will, but he did what you told him to and met someone. He found love again. If you hadn't meant it… you shouldn't have said it."

Simon hung his head. He'd had good intentions. He'd wanted Robin to meet someone else and find happiness, but only when he didn't think that hard about it. The reality was that his good intentions had come with a broken heart delivered by first class post. He glanced at Alex.

"Was he happy with her?" he whispered, afraid of letting tears loose.

Alex nodded her head.

"Very," she whispered.

Simon stared at his hands. It was all so hard. He wanted Robin back so badly, but it looked like that was never going to happen. He wanted Robin to be happy, but he wanted to be the one to _make_ him happy. He felt himself starting to choke up again.

"I think I'd better go," he said quietly, "they've taken Keats away. I need an update on his mental state."

"Simon," Alex said quickly as he got to his feet. He turned around slowly. "You should start listening to your own advice," she said quietly.

"What do you mean?"

Alex stood up.

"You know inside that telling Robin to find happiness with someone else was the right thing to do," she said, "but now you need to let _yourself_ move on. There's someone out there who can make you happy. But you'll never find them if you won't let go."

Simon looked down. He gave a reluctant nod. He knew she was right, he just didn't know how he could ever do it.

"Thank you." he said quietly. He finally looked her fully in the eye, "and you were right." He paused. "I really did need to talk."

"What are friends for?" Alex said quietly with a sad smile.

She watched him leave, wishing that she could offer him more than a friendly ear. Simon deserved to be happy and she knew one day he'd find someone to give him the happiness he was due – he just had to learn to believe that he deserved it – and to let go of the past.

~xXx~

_#...Heart over mind_

_Yes I'm_

_My father's son_

_I live my life just like_

_My father's done_

_If he'd have told me_

_One day_

_That somebody'd have my heart in chains_

_Would i believe it?_

_No way_

_Made up my mind i'd never fall that way_

_But tell me why_

_Everytime i try_

_To tell you it's goodbye_

_I can't seem to let go in my heart_

_I know i want to stay_

_What i'm trying to say_

_Here i am with you_

_And you know that it's true_

_Despite all the feelings_

_You're putting me through_

_Try to walk away_

_But something makes me stay_

_But tell me why_

_Every time i try_

_To tell you it's goodbye_

_I can't seem to let go in my heart_

_Though i want to stay_

_Never run away_

_My father's son_

_And i live my life_

_Inclined to do_

_As my father's done_

_If he'd have told me_

_One day_

_That someone would have my heart in chains_

_Would I believe it_

_No way_

_Made up my mind I'd never fall that way_

_But it's heart over mind_

_Yes I'm_

_My father's son_

_And I live my life_

_Inclined to do_

_As my father's done_

_Heart over mind_

_Yes i'm_

_My father's son_

_~ My Father's Son – Conner Reeves_

_~xXx~_

_**A/N: Two years ago today…. Two years ago, bloody hell, that's gone fast. I still miss A2A, I really do. I remember on the day of the last episode I was invigilating an exam and instead of watching the clock to see how long the students had left I kept looking at the clock and thinking, "…X hours and X minutes until A2A…. X hours and X minutes until we know the truth…." :D Also, the night before the last episode I was so wound up with excitement I ended up going for a walk to the supermarket at stupid o'clock at night (something like quarter to ten) because I needed a distraction! I bought a loaf we didn't even need!**_

_**Like I said, I still miss it. And I still feel like Alex's fate was an absolute punch in the guts. I can't think of it without getting all angry again. But I do have that, and A2A as a whole, to thank for giving me back the urge and passion to write after years where my inspiration was killed stone dead. Ad if it hadn't been for that, this last year and all the stuff that happened, I'd have gone absolutely crazy without this outlet.**_

_**And thanks to A2A I've made some wonderful friends too :)**_

_**You don't need any more of my emotional dribbling, it's too early in the morning :P But I just wanted to mark the day. And I'd love to hear anyone else's memories of the day of the last episode as well, because I love to hear that stuff. It keeps Ashes alive. (I am aware that's a bad choice of word! Ha :P)**_

_**Happy End-Of-Ashes-Anniversary everyone!**_

_**Anyone for a glass of Bolly?**_


	28. Chapter 26: A Prisoner Of The Past

_**A/N: I hope everyone survived the second anniversary of the end of A2A intact. I just about did; I made the all too common mistake of watching 3:8 before I went to bed which got me all riled up about Alex again and her miserable fate of getting NOTHING and NO ONE! Grrr... seriously, while I'm thankful to those who created this wonderful show for us to play about with and keep alive in our own ways, Geoff has a whole new set of loofahs at the ready should he ever encounter certain individuals who saw fit to send Alex off into the pub alone!**_

_**I also managed – with much blood, sweat, pain and tears – to complete the winning 'deleted' scene which I posted as a new story last night. Cannot write straight smut, does not compute in Misty-brain! (Brain?)**_

_**Anyway, tissue alerts sounding here, because I ended up horribly miserable and angsty by the end of this! The next chapter is the second climax to the story and might take a little longer but I'm hoping to post by the end of tomorrow at least.**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter Twenty Six**

"You've got five minutes. He needs to rest."

Gene raised an eyebrow as he looked through the door of the hospital room. There he was: Jim Keats, the most frenzied version of which Gene had ever witnessed. In his harsh metal bed his wrists and ankles were bound with leather restraints that groaned and creaked as he struggled and thrashed beneath them.

"He doesn't seem very restful to me," Gene commented.

The doctor swallowed with nervous anxiety. She _knew_ that. She wished she didn't but she did

"We've tried administering sedatives," she said quietly, "but they seem to be taking a… an extraordinarily long time to take effect." She nodded toward the door, giving Gene the cue to enter, then stepped back and began to walk away.

Gene's eyes focused on the madman. He stepped slowly towards him, keeping his expression as neutral as he could. When Keats saw him the violent thrashing and gnashing of teeth died down long enough for him to hiss,

"Oh look who it is, the King of Fenchurch East."

"If this is some kind of plan to plead temporary insanity…" he paused as Keats appeared to start chewing on his sheets for a moment – "or _permanent_ insanity in your case… then it's not going to wash, Jimbo."

"Not insanity," Keats spat, "_power_. Too _much_ power. Too much energy, all at once…. Exploding n my head." He opened his eyes wide, _"boom."_

Gene swallowed but kept his neutral expression.

"If you're that worried about yer power and yer energy then get on the phone to British Gas," he said.

"_It was the final straw,"_ Keats hissed, "_He_ was the one to blame… too much of it, all in one go… couldn't fight it. Couldn't control it. It got right into me."

Gene folded his arms.

"Sounds painful," he said.

"And then _she_ came back!" a wild flurry of laughter came from Keats's lips, "and the glass overflowed!"

"I'll get you a bloody cloth then," said Gene. He'd seen enough. He turned slowly and began to leave.

"What? Where are you going?" Keats demanded, "need to _listen!"_

"I've seen and heard all I need to," Gene called back over his shoulder, "You've got a dose of the crazies. It's a good way to end the day."

Keats felt his fury rising as Gene continued to walk away.

"I had a nice friendly word with your friend Layton," he spat.

"Was that word '_heroin'?"_ Gene asked, finally stopping to look back at him. Suddenly there was a crazed smile on Keats's face. He rattled the restraints so hard Gene thought the bed was going to fall apart.

"Funny, I feel quite an affinity with him," Keats's eyes bolted as his head and neck rose as far as his binds would allow, "if you spend a bit of time in another man's skin that can change you. Change you both. Maybe I left little bit of me behind."

"Up his backside, I presume?"

Keats didn't even hear the remark.

"He's _dead_, Gene. Robin's fucking dead. You can tell him that from me."

"How about I tell your doctor to up yer dosage instead?" Gene suggested. This time as he turned and began to walk again, shaking his head, he blocked out all trace of Keats's mindless wittering. Whatever had twisted his mind so much, he was making even less sense than usual and Gene had heard more than enough rubbish for one day.

~xXx~

'…_Look at you, laying there…'_

Robin pinched his forehead between his fingers as a sharp pain travelled through his skull. The headache had started as a dull throbbing over one eye and become slowly worse as the day wore on. Now evening was approaching it as starting to become hard to cope with. Why didn't he have any damn painkillers, he cursed himself as he turned over another sheet of paperwork to sign from the manhunt that day.

'…_all vulnerable…'_

He blinked and rubbed his head. He thought he heard something; a voice. But there was no one around. Shit, it was the sleep deprivation, it _had_ to be. He needed to find something better than Simon's couch.

He groaned slightly as he heard a knock on the door.

"Come in?" he sighed, not really wanting to see anyone. His annoyance increased when he found Shaz at the door.

"Some of us are going for a drink to celebrate our first success, sir," she said, "do you want to come with us?"

Robin knew it was stupid but he found himself bristling.

"No thanks," he said as politely as he could bring himself to, "I've still got paperwork to do. But have a great time."

"Thanks, sir," Shaz's smile was innocent and bright and Robin felt a little guilty for holding unnecessary jealousy against her. He sighed and turned back to the reports on his desk. He felt strange, being in what was basically the same office that he had in 2012 while knowing that here, in 1997, it had _just_ been converted from an old toilet block and unlike his office in the real world it still had a vaguely toiletty theme to it. The room was plagued by flushing noises through the pipes that still currently ran through it, not yet removed by plumbers, while a sign bearing the slogan '_Now Wash Your Hands' _stood conspicuously over the door.

'…_would have thought someone would…'_

There was that pain in his head again, _and_ the voice. He cupped his head in his hands, trying to make the pain go away. He groaned as he heard the door opening and glanced up, worried that Shaz was back with another invite but was relieved to see only Simon enter the room.

"Robin?" he frowned, "Why is the room so dark?"

Robin sat up a little straighter and sighed.

"I've got a headache," he said quietly, "I thought toning down the light would help."

"Are you OK?" Simon frowned as he walked to the desk.

"I'll be fine," said Robin, "as soon as I get round to picking up some bloody painkillers." He glared at the pipes as a flush sounded and water rattled along the wall. "_That_ doesn't help either."

'…_realise. Thought there would be…'_

He flinched and held his head again as another few words sounded in his mind.

"I just had a call from Gene," Simon began, "he went to see what state Keats was in. Getting worse by the moment, by the sound of things."

Robin was still shuddering from their earlier confrontation and didn't want to think about Keats right then.

"I'm just surprised he's still in one place without pulling a disappearing act," he said quietly.

"He also asked me to check on you," Simon said, "after Keats freaked you out earlier."

"Can you _blame_ me for freaking out?" cried Robin.

"No," said Simon, "but nevertheless, Gene told me to…" he checked his hand where he'd written down the exact instruction, "_make sure that dog-wrangling, hologram-headed ex of mine hadn't taken to cowering under his desk, waiting for Ace Rimmer to rescue him from the nasty man."_

"_Great,"_ mumbled Robin, "_Hologram-Head_. Is that the new one? I think I preferred _Batman."_

"He's on his way back from the hospital now," Simon told him "we're meeting in CID."

Robin sighed and slowly got to his feet. He felt the room spin a little and held onto the edge of his desk, closing his eyes for a moment.

"_Shit,"_ he cursed.

"Rob? Are you alright?" Simon frowned.

Robin nodded slowly as the room stopped spinning and he slowly straightened up.

"Sorry," he said, "I missed lunch. Must be low blood sugar."

Simon hesitated. He watched Robin, unsure whether to believe him or not. Something didn't seem right. Eventually he simply nodded.

"Come on," he said quietly, "let's go and wait for Gene."

Robin nodded and followed him slowly, accompanied by pain in his forehead and words he couldn't unravel travelling through his mind.

'…_someone protecting you…'_

He shook his head as he tried to block it out. The sooner the meeting was over with and he could get some sleep, the better.

~xXx~

Alex had managed to get away with it. She'd spent the whole day in Fenchurch East without Gene telling her to go home. She'd made herself more than useful and Gene had realised that it wasn't just in a personal capacity he needed her. He desperately needed her at work for the smooth running of the station too. Plus it helped to keep her mind away from matters that she needed a break from stewing over. It was getting harder to keep the tears at bay when she thought about the baby she'd carried for all that time, alone in 2012. Being back at work gave her another focus, at least for a short while.

She frowned as she saw Simon and Robin arrive.

"Robin? Are you OK?" she asked, "You look pale."

"Had a headache all afternoon," he said quietly, the intensity of the words he couldn't understand worsening the pain.

'…_but it looks like I…'_

"Are you sure that's all?" Alex asked in concern, "you look worse than when you had morning sickness…"

Robin was aware of Simon staring at him with a look of absolute bewilderment on his face.

"_Don't_ ask, don't even _think_ about asking," he said, holding up his hand.

He was relieved when Gene arrived. It distracted Simon from his confused glances.

"Well, that was a sight and an 'alf," he remarked as he headed towards them, "a strapped-down Jimbo, foaming at the mouth and snarling like something from Batman's _Hopeless Hounds division_." He shook his head. "Looked far too much at home with those leather straps. Long suspected he was a bit of a bondage man."

"I've already got a headache, I don't need an upset stomach too," Robin blanched at the suggestion.

Gene stood beside the whiteboard and took a couple of pens from the tray. He handed them to Alex who looked at him curiously as she took one.

"What are these for?" she asked.

"You wormed yer way back in, now make yerself useful," Gene told her, "You're the only one who can work one of these things. Start brainstorming."

Alex found a smile flickering onto her face. _Now_ she was back. Really, _truly_ back. She took the other pen eagerly and removed the lid, taking her place in front of the board.

"_So_ much better than the flip chart," she said, breathing in deeply to take in the aroma of the pens.

"Careful, Bols, we're already on the trail of Layton. We don't need _you_ getting high an' all."

Robin's head was thumping and pulsing in a deadly rhythm of pain and anxiety. He felt his eye twitch as the worst of the ache located to one side. He tried to distract himself as he asked,

"What did the hospital say? Had Keats been –" he paused as a crescendo of words played through his mind – '_…was wrong about that, lucky me…'_ - he flinched and rubbed his temples, "had he been raiding Layton's stash?"

"Blood tests haven't shown anything so far," said Gene, "not even a bit too much caffeine."

"Hasn't been on the latte run then?" asked Simon.

"Wouldn't send Jimbo on the latte run, I'd end up with a half-latte, half drool surprise."

"So what did they say?" asked Alex.

"Not much to be honest," said Gene, "sedatives aren't working. He's still as crazy as an Evan groupie." He leaned against the side of a desk as he watched Alex scribbling on the board –

_Keats – no narcotics. Sedatives – failed. Restraints._

"Did you speak to him?" asked Simon.

"In a fashion," said Gene, "_speaking_ maybe isn't the word. Did more _growling_ than talking." He frowned as he saw Robin's eyes closing and his body slumping a little in the chair. "_Oi, Batman_? Are we keeping you awake?" but rather than startling with a look of shame as Gene expected he watched Robin slump further until he had almost toppled off the chair.

"_Woah,"_ Simon caught him before the ground could deliver a batch of bruises. He stared at him worriedly as his head flopped completely for a second before slowly righting. "Robin, what happened? Are you ok?" He saw Robin's head loll again for a moment before he sat up straight. _"Rob?"_

"Robin, what happened?" Alex abandoned her brainstorming for a moment to see if he was alright.

Robin's vision swam as he tried to focus on them. For a moment he felt as though he was seeing something strange; some random place, a face looming over him but the image was as blurred as a naked body through frosted glass and after he blinked a few times the office came back into clear focus. He groaned in embarrassment

"Oh _god_, I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Shit, you scared the hell out of me," Simon told him.

Robin held his head, forcing himself to ignore the words that were running through it.

'…_Because here I am…'_

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, "I told you, I missed lunch. I'm just a bit dizzy."

Simon looked at him cautiously, unsure whether to believe that was all that was wrong. Eventually he nodded and stood up.

"Alright," he said, "hold on. I'll be right back."

Gene stared at Simon as he walked towards the door.

"_Oi!"_ he called, "_Shoe-Boy!_ Walking out in the middle of a brainstorm requires surgery to see if you _have_ a brain. In other words, not a good idea."

"I'll be two minutes," Simon told him, demonstrating by holding up the correct number of fingers and being careful to show them to Gene the offensive way around. Alex couldn't help but be amused, both by the gesture and by the scowl on Gene's face.

"How long has to pass before I'm allowed to make comments about being a chip off the old block?" she asked.

Gene turned his glare to Alex.

"When that day comes," he began, "cats will be diving in the ocean and cows will be tap-dancing in the fields."

Alex turned back to Robin for a moment.

"Are you _sure_ you're OK?" she asked.

"Everything except my pride will be fine," Robin mumbled. There was a sharp pinching feeling above his eyes and with a groan he placed his palm across his forehead.

'…_right by your bedside…'_

"Robin?" Robin knew Alex was saying his name but he couldn't open his eyes long enough to look at her.

"Now what's bashing yer brain, Batman?" Gene's tone was somewhat less concerned.

"Headache's getting worse," Robin grimaced.

"Have you taken anything for it?" Alex asked. Robin shook his head. "Gene, get him some painkillers."

"What am I, a bloody nurse?"

"No, you're a man whose office smells of scotch," said Alex, "your desk must be lined with hangover cures."

Gene groaned and grumbled but finally relented.

"Check me bottom right hand drawer," he said.

While Alex was in search of aspirin, Simon returned with a can of Coke.

"The chocolate machine's broken and the canteen's closed for the night so this was the best I could do," he told Robin.

Robin looked at him gratefully. Come to think of it he hadn't had anything to drink either. He was probably dehydrated too. No wonder his head hurt.

"Thanks," he said, somewhat surprised by the gesture, especially since it wasn't followed by a string of unpleasant comments about Kim which almost every conversation managed to degenerate into.

Alex returned, pills in hand.

"Here," she said as she placed them in Robin's palm.

"Thanks," Robin said quietly. He opened the can and swilled down the pills with the cold, sweet fizz. The sound of the bubbling liquid almost drowned out the voice.

'…_with your life…'_

"Now that Batman's the right way up, can we get back to discussing the current mental condition of Mister Keats?" Gene asked, folding his arms. He waited until everyone was looking in his direction again before he continued. "Right. Back to the mad one. No drugs have shown up in his tests. The bed straps seem to be holding him in place for now but as soon as the lights go out for the night I wouldn't be surprised to see him vanish into thin air again. The only thing that makes me think differently…" he paused, "is, the way he's acting, he might just be a little too crazy to do it. Let's hope his brain is too warped to turn on the invisibility shield."

"You said you talked to him…?" Alex prompted.

"I said I got _growled_ at," said Gene, "there were one or two words between it. _Energy and power,_ he kept on about. Told him to speak to British Gas about that one."

"Energy and power?" Simon repeated quietly.

"I don't need a parrot in the office," Gene told him.

"What _kind_ of energy and power, exactly?" Simon asked. His skin paled quite suddenly and his eyes began to look heavy with concern.

"The man was foaming at the _mouth_," Gene told him, "the only kind of energy _he_ needs is electric shock treatment."

"_Gene…"_

Gene sighed.

"He didn't make a lot of sense, Shoebury. Something about, too much power and his head blowing up. Energy making it explode. Said it was _too much_ and he was out of control. I could see that for meself."

"Shit… _energy,"_ Simon said quietly.

"That parrot's back," Gene said crossly, "someone go and get a bag of peanuts."

Simon shook his head, staring downwards.

"You don't get it?" he asked.

Gene looked a little confused.

"You going to expand on this revelation then?" he demanded.

"You remember what we found out about him, Gene?" he said quietly, "in his files in the basement. How he became the way he is."

"What's this?" Robin asked, his curiosity piquing despite his throbbing head.

Alex's expression looked haunted.

"Simon discovered something a while ago," she said quietly, "in Keats's old files from back in the eighties. It told us how he became the monster we know today. He was just a man once."

"It's my _fault,"_ Gene folded his arms defensively, "apparently I'm doing it wrong. I'm supposed to be a _robot_ but for some stupid reason I give a damn about my team. Keats has me listed as a buggering do-gooder."

"There's more to it than that," Simon said witheringly, "it's because Gene doesn't just do his job. He cares."

"I bloody don't."

"He has a heart.

"That's an unfounded allegation."

"And because he didn't approach his job the same way as other DCIs there was all this kind of… _opposite_ energy created to balance it out," Simon continued, "like, because of all the good Gene did –"

"_Allegedly."_

"- there was a darkness… a kind of malevolent energy… just floating around. Waiting for someone to absorb it."

Robin looked at him anxiously.

"And Keats was the person who took it up," he said quietly, not even terming it as a question. Simon nodded.

"Then things snowballed. First Alex got promoted and then _I_ started working here and suddenly there were three of us '_doing it wrong'._ He got more powerful." he looked at Gene. "How quiet has that man been for _months_? Ever since Alex disappeared."

Gene found himself swallowing nervously. That was something he hadn't thought about.

"Like someone pulled his plug out and his battery was running down," he said quietly.

Simon really wished it was that easy. If Keats was a laptop life would be so much easier.

"One less person. One less set off energy to draw on," said Simon. He saw Gene nod. Simon took a deep breath. "And now, all of a sudden, he's going crazy," he said, "insane. I've never seen him like this before."

"He's had his moments n the past," said Alex, "like when we confronted him with his own tape."

"No, that was different," said Simon, "that was a different type of crazy. He couldn't cope with being human. He couldn't cope with having emotions. This time… he's just manic. Violent., It's hideous."

"Oh _fuck,"_ Robin's eyes widened as he remembered Keats's words in the cell that morning, "when he was blaming me… it was because I joined and the energy went up, wasn't it?" his eyes darted around the room, hoping someone would tell him he was wrong. "The energy increased and he couldn't handle it… he was right… I _did_ turn him crazy…"

"Why didn't he do the mental _loop de loop_ when you joined the station?" Gene challenged Simon.

Simon hesitated guiltily. He glanced at Robin, hardly daring to say what was on his mind.

"Maybe because I'm not part of his family tree?" he said quietly. He immediately regretted it. The look on Robin's face of utter mortification almost killed Simon stone dead. "Rob, I'm _sorry_… I'm sorry, but it's _true_… he might just pick up more from you because… because you…"

"Please, don't enlarge on that," Robin said quietly as he got unsteadily to his feet. Where the headache had almost started to fade for a moment it now came back with a crushing pressure around his temples which he held and rubbed. The voice spoke again. The words were becoming clearer now.

'…_in my hands…'_

Gene stared at Robin. He wished he could tell him he thought Simon was talking bollocks but he had a feeling that every word he'd said was true. It seemed they'd found the cause behind Keats's insanity.

"And then Bols came back," he said stiffly, "just to add the cherry to the top of the cake. The final straw. Tipped him over the edge."

Simon nodded slowly.

"Exactly."

"He knows he's too far out of control," Robin whispered, "he said so. He wants to get rid of me. He blames me for his state."

"Did he say anything else?" asked Alex, "anything at all?"

"Talked about Layton," said Gene.

"Is there any sign of him yet?" asked Alex.

"Nothing solid," said Simon, "a few possible sightings that we're chasing up."

"Knowing Layton it could go one of two extremes," said Alex, "he could either seek familiarity and return to an old known haunt or he could flee the area and start again a long way away like he did after he shot me."

"I haven't had time to go through all the sightings and reports yet," said Simon, "but I'll keep both in mind."

'…_with a gun…'_

Robin's pain reached fever pitch. He clutched his head and sank back into his seat. He knew the others were staring at him but he couldn't do much about it. The pain was worsening, the voices getting stronger and the fear growing internally.

"We'd better wrap this up before _someone_ faints and I end up with a Robin-skin rug in me office," said Gene.

"You need some sleep," Alex told Robin.

"You're telling me," Robin said quietly, barely able to hold up his head.

"Tomorrow we'll get Batman's mutt brigade searching one more time for Layton," said Gene, "and extend the search. It's looking more likely that he's travelling far and wide. He's a slippery one."

"I know," Alex said quietly, trying not to stare as Robin held his head again, "I still don't know how he managed to escape from the hospital in two thousand and _twelve_. He calls himself unlucky but…" she shook her head, "he's had one chance too many." She sighed distantly. "The one thing I do wonder," she said quietly, "is what happened to him after I came home. After he shot at us and fled. Whether he was caught, whether he went back to prison… where he is now."

'…_against your head.'_

The final words were the ones that brought everything together in Robin's mind. Finally he recognised the voice. _Finally_ he knew who was speaking and what they were saying. The bursts of speech that he'd hardly been able to hear over the past hour or so suddenly came together and made sense to him; a perfect, terrible sense.

"_I think I might know,"_ his voice shook with horror as he turned to Alex, eyes wide open and hands trembling. He swallowed, meeting her eye. "Here's _there_. He's in my room. By my bed." He saw looks of disbelief and confusion on the faces of those around him, "he's got a gun to my head. _Fuck_, he's got a _gun_ to my _head_, and –" he closed his eyes. He could _feel_ it; the cold barrel pressed against his temple. He began to tremble all over, the fear grasping every limb. "He's _killing_ me," he looked pleadingly at every face in turn, "He's going to kill me. _Please_, someone, help –"

"Robin, are you sure?" Alex's voice was urgent and full of fear.

"I can _hear_ him, " Robin swallowed, "I heard his voice… I've been hearing it for the last hour but I couldn't understand it… couldn't hear who it was…" he gasped as a slightly crazed laugh played through his head. "Please, _help me!"_ he begged. He looked from Alex, to Gene to Simon. "Someone, _help_ me – what do I _do?"_ Why was everyone staying silent? Why wasn't anyone _helping_ him? He begged and pleaded with his eyes as he cried, "I have to wake up. I have to _stop_ him." He waited again but all that met him were tearful stares. "Oh come _on!"_ he cried, jumping to his feet, "there's _got_ to be a way." He saw Alex's lip tremble as she slowly shook her head, Simon frozen as though caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck and Gene staring at him with a fixed expression that simply said he didn't want to spell out the truth. "How can I get back? I have to wake up… I have to _stop_ him…" He felt himself losing control. "I have to get back. For _Kim_. For _fuck's_ sake, she's having our _baby_ – I _need_ to get back, she fucking _needs_ me!" his arms were flailing as he tried to express his desperation but answers remained absent.

"Robin," Alex began softly, "I'm sorry…"

"_No,"_ Robin started to shake his head, "_Don't_ tell me you're sorry. That means you're giving up." He started to back away, "and _I'm_ not giving up. I need to find a way to force myself awake… or to stop Layton now so he'll never get that far…"

"That's not the way it works, Robin," Gene said grimly.

"_Fuck_ the way it works, tell me how to break the rules," Robin cried desperately.

"Some rules can't be broken," said Gene.

"That can't be true," Robin cried, "I can't believe that. You _have_ to tell me how to get back there. How can I stop Layton? What can I do?" his heart was shattering right before their watching eyes. "I _need_ her… I need to get _back_ there… I need to be with Kim, I can't stay here…" tears began to fall despite every attempt to stop them. "Someone, _help me,"_ he pleaded one final time before he sank to his knees, his chest wracked with staged breath between his sobs as the truth began to sink in. "_Help me –"_

Simon swallowed. He stared at Robin in pieces on the ground, and felt his stomach churning. His heart was thumping away and he found himself shaking his head just a little. He tried to hold back tears as he watched the most important person in his life crumble before him. So much guilt started to grab hold of him. How much he'd longed for Robin's body to fade away and die in the real world, how much he'd longed for him to stay so he'd have a chance at winning him back. Did he want to see Robin in pain? Of _course_ he didn't. Had he ever imagined Robin wanted to get home this badly? No, never in a million years because he didn't _dare_, lest his own heart would shatter with the truth. He swallowed again and felt angry tears pricking his eyes. Why was no one helping Robin? Why was no one fucking _helping_him?

"Oh come _on,"_ he cried angrily, his eyes focused on Gene, "_help_ him!"

"You know it doesn't work that way, Simon," Gene frowned.

"_Sam bloody Tyler,"_ cried Simon, "_You_ were the one who told me. _You_ were the one who said he changed things in the real world by changing the past. Someone by his hospital bed, trying to do him in... Sam got him locked away for being crazy and suddenly things changed on the other side of the line."

"_What?"_ Robin whispered, his tearful eyes turning to gene with a glare, "Is that true?"

"I told you things were different back then," Gene told Simon crossly, "Worlds –"

"Oh, don't give me that _worlds were closer in Manchester_ bollocks," cried Simon, "how bloody close do you want them to be, Gene? Turkeys, babies and fishy biscuits can go back and forth at will, do you seriously think there's more than a hair's width between them right now?" He stared at Gene. He'd never seen Gene looking so uncertain before. Simon found himself breathing deeply. He was trembling all over. This was hard. This so, _so_ bloody difficult. He felt torn in two as his eyes moved from Gene to Robin and back again. Then suddenly his conscience made a decision and he got to his feet. "If _he_ won't help you, _I_ will," he whispered before he could change his mind.

Robin stared at him in shock.

"What?" he whispered.

"We'll find a way," Simon told him, "I don't know how… we'll try the Sam Tyler route. Come with me, we'll go through all those reports, we'll find Layton, we'll make sure he never has the chance to pull the trigger."

Robin couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You want to help me?" he blinked and trembled, "you do… do know… I could end up going back…"

Simon stared back at him. His entire expression was a picture of sadness as he nodded. But as he stretched out his hand towards Robin, Robin could see that his gesture was sincere.

"I'm _going_ to _help_ you," Simon whispered.

Robin bit his lip and swallowed back tears. He reached out and linked hands for Simon to help him shakily to his feet. As the man he knew so well led Robin through to Gene's office where the pile of reported sightings awaited Robin had never felt more gratitude in the whole of his life.

"_Thank you,"_ he whispered.

But he knew either way – whether he made it home or not, whether they stopped Layton or not, 'thank you' would never be enough.

_~xXx~_

_#...I'm a ghost to you now, I'm someone you don't really wish to see_

_I'm a ghost to you now, a shadow since you turned your back on me_

_Maybe you'll learn why it was I shook_

_Baby your turn to wear the haunted look_

_This ghost is here to stay_

_I survived the blast_

_Get Ready, get ready to pay_

_I'm taking you at last -_

_A prisoner of the past_

_This ghost is here to stay_

_He survived the blast_

_Get ready, get ready to say_

_"I've found my niche at last -_

_A prisoner of the past"_

_Anywhere that you go, I'm going to be the welcome there for you_

_Everywhere that you go - be certain that the table's set for two !_

_Maybe you'll learn - there's nowhere you can go_

_Baby you'll turn - as white, as white as snow_

_This ghost is here to stay_

_I survived the blast_

_Get Ready, get ready to pay_

_I'm taking you at last -_

_A prisoner of the past_

_This ghost is here to stay_

_He survived the blast_

_Get ready, get ready to say_

_"I've found my niche at last -_

_A prisoner of the past"_

_This ghost is here to stay_

_I survived the blast_

_Get Ready, get ready to pay_

_I'm taking you at last -_

_A prisoner of the past…#_

_~ Prisoner Of The Past – Prefab Sprout_

_**~xXx~**_

_**(Very self-indulgent A/N: This song has a very special meaning to me personally and I have been in two minds about using it for this fic from the start, but by the time I finished this chapter I knew it was perfect.**_

_**On a not altogether unrelated note, two years ago today someone wrestled my writer's block violently to the ground, threw it into a dingy cell and set my muse free. Stewing over Alex's fate all day, I used the walk to the fish and chip shop to plan in my head the first chapter of Out of the Window, still unsure if I was going to be able to write after so long. I can't believe I'm still writing two years on – and thank you so much for still reading! x x**_


	29. Chapter 27: Time To Say Goodbye

_**A/N: Sorry for the length of this chapter, and…**_

_**And just, sorry… in general…**_

_***Tissues***_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter Twenty Seven**

Robin felt as though he was in some kind of nightmare or altered realty as he followed Simon through to Gene's office. He felt trapped, knowing that out there Layton was right by his side, about to pull the trigger at any moment, while in the world around him only Simon was prepared to help him. He clung to the hand that led him across the room for dear life. Feeling Simon grasp his fingers helped to keep him grounded. He needed whatever touch of reality he could keep hold of.

"Here's the pile of reports," Simon told him, lifting a pile of papers from the desk, "sightings… well, _possible_ sightings of Layton from today." He looked at Robin who seemed unable to focus and stumbled as his head spun. "Shit, sit down," he commanded, helping him down into the chair.

"Sorry," Robin mumbled. He felt disorientated and dizzy. Simon marched to the door, calling back,

"_Wait there."_

He returned a few moments later and closed the door behind him, grasping Robin's coke can in his hand.

"Here," he said, "try to drink more of this. Whether it's Layton or your lack of food and drink making your head spin you need to get yourself as steady and sturdy as possible. The sugar will help for now; we'll get you some proper food as soon as we can."

Robin felt Simon pressing the can into his hand. He seemed to be losing his grip on reality, as though under the effects of an anaesthetic or something similar. His head threatened to flop as he heard the laughter inside his mind again and he felt extremely thankful for Simon bringing him back to reality by grasping his hand, still holding the can and commanding; "_drink."_

Robin did his best. He took a few sips and put the can down on the desk, worried that it was going to drop out of his hand if he didn't. He accidentally let out a belch that Kim would have been proud of and bit his lip guiltily as Simon fired him a brief glare before picking up his pile of reports again.

"We'll go through these, look for any patterns," Simon spoke quickly, trying to work as fast as he could, "find a general area where Layton seems to be connected to and speak to any contacts we can who might be able to point us in the right direction."

Robin stared at Simon as he found a pile of papers thrust into his hand.

"Why are you helping me?" he whispered. After everything Simon had said since he arrived he'd thought that the last thing Simon would want to do was to help him home. He found Simon's blue eyes staring back at him, glistening with tears that burst rudely into his field of vision. He had a distant look upon his face. If he was honest he wasn't even sure of the answer to that question himself. Finally he took in a deep breath.

"Because," he whispered, "when you hurt, I hurt." He swallowed, "and that's one thing that's never going to change."

He turned to the papers in front of him and tried not to think about their ultimate goal. Succeeding would mean losing Robin, _again_, and whatever the situation between them the thought of a goodbye was too difficult to think about.

~xXx~

"Are we going to let them do this?" Alex hissed, her arms folded in anxiety. She started to pace up and down the office, disturbed that Gene seemed to be without answers this time.

"I don't think it's my call to make," Gene told her, "Simon's taken this into his own hands."

"It's not going to work," Alex's voice crackled with emotion, "it's not how things work, Gene, is it?" she paused. "Is it?"

Gene sighed then slowly shook his head.

"It _shouldn't_ be, at least," he said.

"And the Sam Tyler story?" Alex asked.

"I did tell Simon that," Gene admitted, "I don't know how true it was, I only know what Sam told me when he was pissed one night."

"Well what if it _is_ true?" Alex hissed, "what if they catch Layton and put him away and he never shot me so I never came here –"

Gene shook his head.

"It can't work like that," he said, "if he never shot you then you would never have gone back in the wrong body and roped Batman and Stringer in to help you get home, so they'd never have met 'im and Layton wouldn't be sitting by his bedside, reading him horrible bedtime stories about getting shot," he shook his head. "Too much of a bloody paradox."

Alex stared at him, open mouthed.

"Exactly how long were you staying with Simon?" she demanded.

Gene shuddered as he realised how much he'd picked up from him.

"I knew those bloody geek cooties were getting to me," he scratched a little as though he had a severe case of nerdy fleas.

Alex looked at Gene sadly.

"Then," she said quietly, "if it's not going to work, and there's nothing they can do to stop Layton from doing his worst," she swallowed as her heart sank, "then they're wasting their time and at the end of it Robin's only going to hurt more." She felt herself tearing up. "He doesn't deserve this, Gene – he has so much that he needs to get back for. It's not fair."

Gene wasn't expecting to see Alex become so emotional and as he watched her something began to dawn upon him, he always knew that he was a fairly solitary figure. He'd rarely allowed anyone very close to him. It came with the job. He had Alex of course, but since Sam he'd never actually had anyone in his life he considered a friend until he Simon arrived. That was a long time to have no one to turn to. But he had never realised Alex was in the same position before. She'd never really had a friend as such, not since Shaz – the _first_ incarnation of Shaz – went to the pub. Gene started to realise that her time in the real world had brought Alex a close bond with both Robin and Kim, and that her emotions were born of devastation for a friend who was about to lose everything.

"I know," he said quietly, wrapping an arm around her and holding her against the warmth of his chest, "I know, Bolly. It's unfair, it's _bloody_ unfair. Every day here something happens that just makes me wonder if we're wasting our bloody time and making everyone miserable." He gave a hefty sigh, "But we can't stop, because they all bloody need us. I can't put you on a train to Batman's hospital room to slap a set of cuffs over Layton. I can't pat Robin on the 'ed and watch him wake up in time to raise the alarm."

"I already get that it's hopeless, Gene," Alex sighed, trying to keep her tears at bay, "you don't need to rub it in."

Gene moved away and held Alex at arm's length.

"There is one thing we _can_ do," he said, "and that's to trust Simon." He saw Alex looking at him in confusion, "Something makes that spaceship-loving twat think he's got a chance. I don't know why, he's made a habit of being the station's resident pessimist for the last fifteen months. But _now_ he believes he can do something."

"Believing isn't enough," whispered Alex. She thought back to all the times she's _'believed'_ – she believed she could get back to the real world by saving her parents or figuring out what Martin Summers was trying to tell her or by uncovering the truth about Gene and his world, then from the other side believing she only needed to help Gene find peace to get back. _Believing_ never got her anywhere. Nor did it help anyone else. She'd seen enough disappointment on the faces of those in the 'halfway state' over the years when yet another attempt to get home fails.

"_I_ believed catching _Layton_ would get you back," Gene's voice was stern and strong. She'd never heard him speak with such conviction before and finally looked him in the eye, "and here you are." He looked down for a moment as he tried to gather his thoughts. "Now, I know it wasn't all down to us. You were tracking the same pile of rotten bones in two thousand and bollocks. But for all we know, someone out there is doing the same."

Alex hesitated. This wasn't like Gene.

"Do you really believe he stands any chance?" she whispered.

"Until two days ago I'd say he had more chance of surviving an Andrew Ridgeley revival without chucking up down the bog," said Gene, "but rules are changing, Bolly. I can't work them out. I can't say yes or no. Things that have stood in stone for years are being filed down with bloody industrial strength sandpaper and re-written. All the evidence and all me common sense says there's no way in Keats's basement they can change what's happening to 'im out there." He shook his head. "But _you_, standing here again, _that_ says differently."

Alex stared at him, trying to work out what to say, what to ask, what to do. She swallowed back her tears and tried to stay strong. If Robin stood any chance of making it home then he needed for everyone to be as strong as possible.

"So what should we do?" she asked quietly.

"_We?"_ Gene repeated, "_we_ do nothing." He nodded towards his office and they watched through the windows at the two heads bowed over paper; talking, pointing, writing – "this isn't our call, Bolly." Gene felt a little awkward as he admitted, "It's not my world any more. It's not even _our_ world. Needed new blood," he nodded towards the window, "and it's got it." He shook his head, "not that I'm hanging up me boots –" he glanced at Alex, "not now I've got _you_ back anyway – but I don't think they need us right now."

"So what do we do?"

"Sit and wait," Gene told her, "and hopefully they'll come to us when they know where they're going. This is their call."

Alex nodded slowly. She stared through the window and felt herself choking up again. It moved her to see the difference and the progression in the two of them; Simon, from the confused and bitter man looking for his iPhone in 1985 and the man who resented the responsibility he'd been given upon his return now leading the way and displaying the strength that he'd kept hidden all that time, and Robin whose doorstep she arrived upon in desperation a year earlier, finding the strength to break away from Simon's shadow and fight for happiness in his life.

"Alright," she whispered. She nodded and looked at Gene. "Alright, We sit and wait." She paused. "But I'll warn you –" she nodded to his office, "_they've_ got the scotch in there."

"Bugger," Gene cursed. He reached into his pocket and found his flask almost empty. With a determined nod he reached for his wallet instead. "That's what the offy's for," he said.

~xXx~

Simon's eyes skipped repeatedly from the page in his hand to Robin as he tried to work through the information they'd received. There was a part of him that couldn't believe what he was doing. Was he really going to help him try to get home? It was so much against everything he'd been trying to do from the moment he got back but the moment he heard Robin say those chilling words and he realised what was happening to him in the real world he had no choice; he had to help him. He'd never seen such a look of fear and distress on Robin's face before. He had tried hard to deny that Robin had built a new life for himself, back in 2012. He'd tried not to believe it. He thought that if he pushed it out of his mind then somehow they could just pick up where they left off. But he couldn't do that any more because everything Robin stood to lose was written right across his face.

He thought back to his relationship with Robin. Robin had been right when they'd talked a few days earlier – they _had_ dragged their feet for a long time, and Simon knew that he was the one who wanted to concentrate on his career more than anything. He'd always been more ambitious in that respect, while Robin had more of an appreciation of life in general. Their relationship had been loving and warm, safe and comfortable, but there was something that had been missing until Simon's first trip to Gene's world showed him how much more there was to life. By then, it was almost too late. They only had a few months to enjoy that increased closeness before Simon died.

"You learned from my mistakes," he whispered as his eyes fixed upon Robin's face.

Robin glanced up.

"Pardon?" he asked.

Simon cringed a little, unaware he'd spoken out loud.

"Nothing," he whispered. He gave Robin a slightly wobbly smile and dropped his eyes back to the paper.

He was right though. Robin _had_ learned from Simon's mistakes. He'd grabbed hold of life and ran with it. He'd thrown caution to the wind and started to really live. It wasn't just about his relationship with Kim developing so quickly, there was so much more to it than that – all the things Robin had done, even down to the tattoos and joining the gym – he'd taken chances he'd never have done before. Simon was envious of that. He wasn't sure he'd have ever had the courage to grasp life with such vigour.

Robin deserved to get back to that life he'd created. Not to live a _half_-a-life in 1997.

"Here's one," Robin's voice pulled Simon out of his thoughts before they could become too maudlin. He glanced up as Robin handed him a sheet of paper, "this one's got the CCTV stills attached. That's definitely Layton."

"Shit, you're right," Simon stared at the page, "Why is no one following this up already?"

Robin looked at him.

"Maybe because _we're_ supposed to," he said quietly.

Simon found himself giving a smile that was tinged with sadness.

"Maybe we are," he said quietly. He found himself desperate to say so many things suddenly. He wanted to give Robin apologies, to tell him what life had been like without him, to ask so many things about their time apart as it became increasingly obvious that there was something buzzing in the air and something important was going to happen that night. But he knew this wasn't the time. There was so much to do and they needed to act quickly. He put those thoughts to the back of his mind as he laid out certain sheets of paper in a particular order across Gene's desk. "Right, let's see what we have so far. Where were those CCTV stills taken from?"

"They were taken from…" Robin began, trying to find the information on the sheet, Oh, here we go. They were taken from a service station. Layton was filling up his car." He squinted at the picture. "We should see if this car has been reported stolen."

"On it," Simon said, reaching for the phone but before he had a chance Robin sat up straight and gave a strained gasp. The sheet of paper fluttered to the floor as he looked at Simon in shock.

"Shit, I _know_ that service station," he said, "this is going to silly but –" he almost smiled as he remembered, "when we were trying to help Alex get home and we travelled to Manchester, we stopped there… there was a bloody fire alarm, we all got evacuated. Kim had a horrible coffee and –" he trailed off as he realised he'd let that name slip and glanced guiltily as Simon. Simon let the receiver go for a moment as he looked at Robin.

"No, go on," he said quietly. He saw Robin hesitate and felt a little guilt of his own creeping on. Of _course_ Robin wouldn't want to continue after all the things he'd said about Kim. He closed his eyes. "please?" he said quietly, "tell me."

"It's OK." Robin gave a tiny smile, "it wasn't important anyway. The main thing was that I knew the service station. That just felt weird."

Simon nodded slowly and picked up the paper. He read over the details himself and found the location striking a chord with him too. He bit his lip.

"Actually," he said quietly, "I know the same service station." He drew in his breath. "Bloody parallels again."

"Everyone talks about being one side of the line or the other," Robin said quietly, "I'm starting to think the line is just a bloody mirror."

He swallowed as the pain started to cross his forehead again. He could hear a click; the sound of the gun primed and ready to fire. He flinched and tried to breathe deeply. He needed to concentrate. He had to find Layton before his future counterpart had a chance to pull the trigger.

"So," he said quietly, "these are the confirmed or at least most likely sightings?"

"Uh-huh," Simon nodded. He looked along the papers, "It looks like he's taking the –" the phone started to ring which made them both jump. "Shit, wasn't expecting that," he whispered, clutching his chest. He calmed down enough to answer the call. "Hello? DCI Hunt's office?... no, this is DCI Shoebury. …Yeah. Yes, that's OK…" he glanced at Robin as the call continued, "Are you sure?" he paused, his expression becoming more intense, "can you put me through to someone at Manchester then?" he noticed a startled and horrified look on Robin's face and tried to calm him with a reassuring smile but since he felt just as unnerved the smile was wonky and didn't help in the slightest.

"What's going on, Simon" Robin asked quietly, "what's with Manchester?"

"_Shh,"_ Simon hissed as a voice came on, "Hi, yes, thanks for speaking to me. I hear you…" he stopped talking as the voice on the line began to fill him in with some details, "uh-huh…. Uh-huh… are you sure?... and have you got any footage?... Who made the positive ID?... And _how_ many people are in hospital?"

"Oh _Christ_, Simon, if you're going to say things like that…" Robin's eyes bolted. This wasn't a good conversation to hear only half of.

"…Alright," Simon said, his voice trembling a little, "we're on our way. I'm going to give you my number, keep us posted and, uh," he paused and glanced at Robin, "and if you locate him… please, try not to do anything until we get there." He took a deep breath. "This is our collar." He passed on his mobile number to the voice on the line, then hung up and turned to Robin who looked stricken, unsure whether the voice in his head or the one Simon had been speaking to on the phone held more to fear.

"Well?" he whispered.

Simon looked at him seriously.

"Positive ID on Layton." He said quietly, "some tainted drugs have turned up along his route. Must have had a small stash somewhere that he's been selling to make some money on the way."

Robin bit his lip.

"On the way," he whispered, "to where exactly?"

Simon swallowed.

"All roads lead to Manchester," he whispered.

Robin closed his eyes and tried hard to keep his cool. _Manchester_. His pathway into Gene's world – was that his way out too? It made sense to him in a way. Perhaps he had to go back through the same part of the country he'd arrived? Once again, Layton seemed to be the catalyst.

"_Manchester,"_ he whispered.

Simon looked him in the eye.

"Worlds are closer in Manchester," he paraphrased the words Gene had used so many times.

Robin nodded slowly.

"Apparently so," he whispered, a lump rising to his throat.

"then that's where _we're_ going," Simon told him.

"It's a long way from here," Robin said anxiously, "we'll never reach it in time."

"We can and we will."

"He's right by my bed," Robin told him, "he's about to pull the _trigger_. Manchester is _hours_ away."

"Time doesn't work the same here, Rob," Simon reminded him, "one second out there could be days in this world."

"Or the other way round."

"We can beat it, Robin," Simon promised. He swallowed back tears. "The clock… is it still ticking?" He watched as Robin's eyes turned to the clock on the wall and he nodded. "Then it's not too late," Simon told him, "all the time that clock is ticking you've got a chance." He gathered up the papers strewn around the desk quickly and held out his hand. "Come on – we need to leave _now."_

Robin tried to keep himself calm.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he whispered.

Simon stared at Robin, the face he knew so well, now belonging to a person so much stronger than he'd ever been before. He nodded tearfully.

"Don't make me live to regret it though," he whispered, "when you get back there live every moment to the full."

Robin nodded, barely able to speak.

"I will," he promised.

"Everyone keeps reminding me what I said in your letter," Simon whispered, "about meeting someone new. But no one ever remembers the other thing I asked."

Robin bit his lip.

"Which part?"

"_Live your life for both of us_," Simon whispered, which drew a choking sob from Robin.

"I've tried," he whispered.

"You've succeeded," Simon told him. He looked him right in the eye. "That's why you need to get back there, Rob. Carry on living that life."

Robin swallowed and nodded firmly.

"I will," he whispered.

Simon stood back and opened the door as Robin got to his feet. As both men passed through the doorway and began to pick up a faster pace through CID they could feel something building in the air around them. Things were shifting that night; changing, moving. If there was any justice then Robin would be moving too – back into his own time.

~xXx~

Gene and Alex walked through the car park with a clanking bag between them.

"Gene, _why?"_ Alex groaned.

"It was on special," Gene protested.

"The last time you drank that stuff your pee was blue for a week."

The sight of two figures running toward the car pool caught their attention.

"Who the buggering hell –" Gene began before he noticed, "that's _Shoebury_, where's he going?"

"They must have found Layton," Alex said as Gene began to run towards them.

X

Simon plopped into the driver's seat and placed his papers on the dashboard.

"I need a new bloody car," he mumbled, discovering an unfortunate number of wrappers and cans in the car.

"I just needed a car in the first place," Robin commented as he climbed on the passenger side and reached for his seat belt.

"We'll take the quickest route," Simon told him, "with lights and sirens if necessary." He looked at Robin seriously, "you'll get there. We'll stop him."

Robin stared back. The change in Simon's attitude was so unexpected. Whether it was the talk he'd had with Alex or the way Robin's despair had affected him – maybe a little of both – something had changed within him and Robin would always be grateful for that. He could still see the pain in Simon's expression. He knew that there was still a part of Simon that longed for things to be different, but the fact that he was putting his own happiness aside for Robin was a sacrifice few could make.

"_Thank you,"_ he whispered.

As Simon turned the key and the engine began to roar the sound of a yell caught their attention.

_"Oi! Geek convention!"_ They turned to see Gene flying towards them, "where are you two heading on a night like this?"

"Manchester," said Simon.

Gene couldn't have been more surprised if Simon had told him they were going looking for daffodils in the Antarctic.

"_Manchester?"_ he cried, "might I ask why?"

"No time to explain," Simon told him quickly, "just got to go."

"Layton –" Robin vaguely called out but Simon hit the accelerator and the car began to move away, out of the car park.

"_Bollocks,"_ Gene cursed with a frown.

"Where are they going?" Alex cried as she caught up to him.

Gene turned to her and said in bewilderment;

"_Manchester."_

"_Manchester?" _Alex repeated, "W-why?"

"You tell me, Bols," he said, doubling back across the car park. Alex turned to follow him.

"Where are _we_ going?" she demanded.

"_Manchester!"_ Gene told her,

Alex rolled her eyes.

"I had a feeling you might say that," she sighed, "do we know where _about_ in Manchester?"

"No," said Gene, "We'll just have to follow the rainbow."

Alex rolled her eyes as Gene reached the Aston Martin and unlocked the doors.

"It's going to be one of those nights, isn't it?" she sighed.

~xXx~

"Do you want the radio on?"

Simon's words brought Robin out of his thoughts. He realised they'd both been silent for some time. No wonder Simon wanted to fill the silence with music. He'd been caught between thinking about the situation, daydreaming about what it would like to wake up and thinking about Simon's change of attitude. He tried to shake himself back to reality.

"No, that's OK," he said quietly, "you never know what you might hear."

Simon glanced at him sympathetically.

"We'll make it in time," he insisted, "We're close now."

"Even when we get there we don't know where to start looking," Robin reminded him.

"So we look everywhere," Simon told him.

"I don't think that's physically possible."

"We will find him." Simon was very insistent. Robin wished he had the same faith.

~xXx~

Alex felt a strange shiver down her spine as Gene drove along on the trail of Simon and Robin. At first they'd just been winging it but they were fortunate enough to catch sight of the pool car and managed just about to stay on track to follow them.

"I don't like this, Gene," she said quietly.

"You'd better not be talking about me new set of wheels," said Gene.

Alex ignored his remark.

"I'm serious. This has too many parallels." She shuddered, "travelling to Manchester, trying to get home, tracing Layton." She looked at him, "what if it all goes wrong, Gene?"

"In what way _goes wrong?"_ Gene asked, "lonely Simon recruits Layton to the rainbow brigade and they all live happily ever after?"

"What happens… for example… if Robin dies here?" she said quietly, "he might never get back. Layton doesn't hesitate to fire a bullet when he thinks he's got a reason."

"Can't say for certain," Gene told her, "depends on the state of his body out there. If he's ready to wake up and one of us is there to help him he might get home. If he's not ready in two thousand and bollocks," he paused and exhaled, "then two Robins, fifteen years apart, say goodbye for good."

Alex felt her heart sinking.

"And if he can't find Layton? Or he finds Layton but nothing changes?" she whispered.

Gene sighed.

"Then batman finds a permanent post at Fenchurch East," he said sombrely.

Alex bit her lip.

"What are his chances, Gene?" she whispered.

Gene turned to her as they stopped at traffic lights.

"Don't think that's for me to say, Bolly."

Alex looked down. Her heart was heavy. She'd made it home and knew just how desperate Robin was to make it back the other way. She felt her hope fading away and just prayed that Robin and Simon's positivity would prevail.

~xXx~

Simon didn't notice the silent tears rolling down Robin's face at first. His eyes were on the road and he'd been talking away about the phenomenon of Toastercide to try to pass sometime and give them both a distraction but as he realised Robin had been silent for a very long time he turned to make sure he was OK. After his earlier state Simon was worried that he had passed out beside him

"Robin?" he said quietly. The street lights illuminated the tears as the fell from his eyes, "Rob, what's wrong?"

Robin looked at Simon. There was no easy answer to that. There were so many thoughts churning around in his head, he couldn't organise them well enough to reply for a few moments until finally he whispered,

"I'm so sorry, Simon."

Simon looked at him sideways as he carried on driving.

For what?" he asked.

Robin could barely speak. He shook his head slowly as he tried and failed to suppress his emotions.

"_Everything,"_ he whispered, "Si, the last thing I ever, _ever_ wanted to do was to hurt you. I would have done anything to stop you from hurting, I promise you that."

"Except choosing me," Simon said quietly.

"Oh, please, don't make me feel worse," Robin begged.

"I didn't mean to," Simon told him honestly, "that's not what I was trying to do, I promise." he shook his head, "I don't think I... I mean, I didn't… until tonight… realise how much she meant to you." He saw Robin turn his head down as though he was afraid to meet Simon's eye and Simon couldn't blame him after the things he'd said, "I've never seen you so desperate, Rob. Never seen that look on your face before. Never seen anyone look that scared of losing someone." He swallowed. It was painful to admit, even to himself, but he had to continue, "I-I don't think even _I_… when I found out I was dead… "

"Simon, you don't have to –" Robin began but Simon shook his head.

"No, I do," he said insistently, "I've been a complete…" he wasn't sure what expletive would be best so he decided to pause and leave that part for Robin to fill in, should he choose to, "It's not an excuse," he whispered, "but it took losing you to realise how much I loved you. And then when you came back and had met someone else it was like losing you all over again." He bit his lip as the rain started to fall, blurring his vision as much as the tears that had started building in his eyes. "But now were on our way to… to put things right for you," his voice caught as he spoke, "and I don't want to say goodbye while we're…. I don't want to fight… I don't –"

"I know," Robin whispered, "I know, Simon."

Simon swallowed and breathed in very deeply. He tried to keep his voice steady when he spoke again.

"Kim… she was my best friend here," he said quietly, "we were chalk and cheese but we just got on. She did something amazing for me; learning the letter off by heart to bring to you. And in return?" he swallowed. "I let her down."

"What do you mean?"

"I wasn't there when she needed me," Simon said quietly, "to send her home when some madman plunged a knife in her guts. I had a _hangover_… I'd had far too much to drink the night before. And the night before that. And most nights since we were separated. I overslept and got there too late." He gripped the steering wheel angrily. "Luckily Alex was there to send her on her way, make sure she went home, but I never got over that. I never forgave myself. And I missed her friendship so much." He looked at Robin. "It's no wonder you two got on so well., Didn't expect you to get on quite _that_ well though."

Robin looked down, his cheeks reddening a little. He gave a tiny smile as he said,

"Simon, whatever you might think, Kim's never thought you've let her down in any way. You gave her the advice that saved her from Keats in the real world; how to stay hidden, changing her job. All of that. Friendship works both ways and Kim's memories of this world, all the good ones, they all seem to be about things you did together." He paused, "apart from some jumper that apparently traumatised her."

Simon gave a laugh that caught him by surprise. It was mixed with tears but for a moment he recalled just how much he loved spending time with Kim; going to _Bask_, hanging around in his flat, sharing a joke on cases. Perhaps his jealousy hadn't all been about Robin falling in love again; perhaps he was jealous of his best friend moving on too.

"Yeah," he said quietly, "when you get home please pass on my apologies to Kim for the years of trauma she's suffered as a result of my knitwear."

Robin laughed gently. This was nice. It was familiar. It was something he had missed. The tragedy was that it had taken the possibility of saying goodbye to get the talking again.

"Simon, right from the start of me and Kim… _you know_… I have been so scared of hurting you," he said softly, "because it's not that I stopped loving you." he shook his head slowly as he saw Simon's eyes flicker to him again, "I don't think I ever could. And if I hadn't met Kim," he swallowed.

"You don't have to say it," Simon whispered, "I don't want to be second prize."

"It's not like that," Robin whispered, "I wish I could explain this to you. I wish there was a way. It's… it's not the same with you as it is with Kim, and that doesn't make anything more or less important. I still love you and I will forever. And If there was a way that I could make you happy too… if there was a way…" he stopped talking as more tears threatened to fall. It took him several moments to calm himself before he could speak again. "I tried not to fall in love with her," he whispered, "I felt like I was cheating on you." he stared at his hand where the ring looked back at him, the metal catching the shafts of light that passed through the windscreen. Every time he thought what life would have been like without her he couldn't breathe. "I _love_ her," he whispered, "I shouldn't be able to. But I do."

Simon swallowed.

"I know," he whispered, "I can see that, Robin. I can see it all over your face. And as much as it hurts, I think maybe… maybe you were meant to be together."

Robin hadn't expected that.

"You do?" he whispered.

Simon nodded.

"You've got that look in your eye right now, just thinking about her," he admitted quietly, "I never saw that in you when _we_ were together."

Robin bit his lip and looked downward.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I… I can't see,… what you see… from the outside… but it's not that I loved you any the less. You were never less important to me. I'd have given my life for you. And what we had was," his expression hung midway between tears and joy, "wonderful. _Powerful_. And I will never forget – or regret – a minute we spent together."

"Neither will I," Simon whispered, "and I know what you're saying… but I've seen you in bleedthroughs. Not just… the one I told you about before," Simon said awkwardly. He didn't want to spell it out, "I've seen other moments that I didn't understand at the time. I've watched you laughing together. I've seen the way you smile at her. I've seen the way she looks at you." Simon drew in a tearful breath. She needs you as much as you need her." A ringing spoilt the moment and Simon roughly wiped his eyes with one hand as he carried on driving. "_Shit_, my phone," he mumbled, "…laws about not using your mobile phone while driving… they didn't come in this early did they?"

"I don't think so," Robin said quietly

"Good," said Simon. He pulled out his phone and held it to his ear. "Hello?" he listened for a while before his eyes flicked to Robin. "You have?" he asked, "Where?... are you _sure?..._ and who identified him?..." he took a deep breath as he turned a corner, "alright, we're heading over. Just keep observing from a distance, don't get too close. We'll deal when we get there."

Robin stared at Simon.

"They've found him, " he said quietly. It wasn't a question.

"Yep," Simon said quietly.

Robin bit his lip.

"It's really happening?" he whispered.

Simon nodded, blinking away tears.

"Yup," he whispered.

"One way or another," Robin whispered, "this is going to decide my fate."

Simon nodded and closed his eyes for a moment. He pulled over to the side of the road. He couldn't see to drive any longer.

"Uh-huh," he whispered, trying to hold back the tears.

"It could go either way," Robin whispered. He turned to face Simon properly, "It might already be too late," he whispered, "or I might –"

Robin trailed off as Simon gulped and nodded.

"I know," he whispered. He opened his eyes and looked Robin in the eye, "but I think… I _think_," he tried to get his words out. "I think this is goodbye."

Robin's lip trembled as he stared at Simon. However things might have worked out, however much he needed to get home, however much his heart was devoted to Kim he would never ever stop caring for Simon and the thought of saying goodbye again was heart wrenching.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Simon promised him. A salty tear found its way from his cheek to his lip and he licked it away.

"I wish –" Robin's voice was almost too low to be heard.

"I know," Simon whispered.

Robin bit furiously on his lip. He looked into Simon's eyes as their colour almost faded to greys of sadness.

"_Thank you,"_ he whispered, "for everything."

"Just be happy," Simon whispered.

With affection and familiarity they were drawn to one another as they shared a long and intimate embrace. They held one another tearfully, the feeling of each other's arms bringing comfort, warmth and nostalgia. Simon closed his eyes as he held Robin's head against the side of his face. He felt himself trembling, the emotion of the night too strong for him to bear. He slowly turned and pressed his lips to Robin's cheek, the seal of a bond that was still there, even if the goalposts were shifting from love to friendship.

"_I'll miss you so much,"_ he heard Robin whisper against him.

Simon swallowed.

"I love you, "he breathed.

He understood why Robin couldn't say it back.

Eventually they drew away and looked at one another with the slightest of smiles, both anxious and emotional. They both knew that their time for goodbyes had passed and that it was time to focus on the difficult task ahead. They dried their eyes, cooled their emotions and prepared for the next step. The difficult part still awaited them.

"Come on," Simon whispered, "Let's get you home."

~xXx~

"What on earth are they doing?" Alex peered through the windscreen trying to see the car parked in front of them.

"Looks like about three seconds away from bursting into song," said Gene, "can't work out if that's supposed to be an 'ug or a rugby scrum." He turned to Alex, "What the bloody hell did you say to Shoebury, it's all – _hug me Batman, all is forgiven_!"

"Just gave him a friendly ear," Alex told him, "look, are we trying to help them or _stalk_ them?" She saw Gene looking at her with confusion, "it's just, we pulled up behind them and instead of telling them we've come to help we're just sitting here, keeping them under surveillance."

No sooner had Alex finished speaking than the pool car started up and Simon began to drive away.

"Bugger, they're off again," mumbled Gene as he started the engine, "looks like we'll have to keep following them for now."

"Where are they going?" Alex wondered.

"Looks like they've been given a location," said Gene, "that speed is the trademark of Simon driving with a purpose."

As Gene began to follow them again, both he and Alex spent the journey in silence, wrapped up in their own thoughts. It was during the silence that Alex noticed the sky was a little too dark and the stars a little too bright. Something was going to happen that night, one way or the other. Worlds were passing closer than ever – Alex just hoped Robin could make that leap before it was too late.

~xXx~

Robin turned the rear view mirror to take a look at his reflection. He wanted to make sure he didn't show any signs of the emotional journey they'd made. The last thing he wanted to do was to slap a pair of cuffs on Layton with tear tracks all down his face. He looked fairly respectable all but for his slightly bloodshot eyes and he was fairly sure that Layton's were going to be ten times worse than his. He pushed his fringe away from his eye and moved the mirror back to where it had been before, took a deep breath and let it out slowly, waiting for Simon to return. He peered out of the window and saw him in the distance, talking to someone in a panda car.

"This is it," Robin muttered to himself, "Robin Thomas, this is your early morning wake up call. No pressing snooze. Open your eyes and get the fuck out of bed."

He could feel his heart beating so hard. He felt alive, desperate to press on and get things started. He pictured Kim in his mind, the smile he missed so much. By her own admission she never smiled before she met him. She'd never truly smiled after she'd come back from Gene's world. But that changed when they began to get close. Now that smile was the one thing he focused on; his prize. It was waiting for him.

He saw Simon heading back in his direction and he tried to pull himself together. It was time for action, not for daydreaming. The door opened and Simon threw himself inside quickly, a sheet of paper in his hands.

"I spoke to the sergeant who's leading the uniformed back-up," he said, "they're happy to leave the collar to us, but if we need help they're there."

"Good to know," Robin said, a little nervously.

The radio in the car seemed to spark into life for a second, spluttering with static before switching back off. Both pairs of eyes turned to it, then to each other.

"What the hell was that?" Simon whispered, his spine tingling with shock.

"Momentary glitch?" Robin said hopefully. He swallowed and stared at the radio but it stayed dead. Finally Simon felt he could carry on.

"Layton's been in there since midnight," Simon nodded towards the ramshackle building they had parked a short distance away from. "Apparently they received a tip-off from a snout who had a long-standing grudge against Layton. Used to deal down in London, spent some time doing business with Layton, bought a batch of pills in good faith during the rave era and fed a load of kids dog worming tablets and slug pellets. Not only did their business partnership crumble but he lost his market and moved up north. He was out working his usual patch when he saw Layton muscling in on the area. He'd seen a news report about his escape earlier tonight and was glad to part with the information."

"So what's the building?" asked Robin.

"It used to be used as some sort of community hall," Simon told him, "youth clubs, judo classes, old women having tea parties…. That sort of thing. But it fell into disrepair at the start of the nineties with the last recession. Since then it's been a hangout for the odd dealer an prostitute. It's not exactly a thriving area."

The radio crackled again. The display lit up and a distorted DJ's voice said a few words before it fell silent again, leaving Simon and Robin with nothing more than a shiver travelling down their spine.

"That thing needs to shut up," Robin shuddered, trying to cover up just how much it scared him. He tried to block it out of his mind. "So, Layton…?" he prompted.

Simon nodded.

"He's squatting from the looks of it. Might have heard about it from another dealer or someone who worked for him."

A sudden knocking on the window caused them both to jump out of their skin and give a strangled scream.

"_What the fuck?"_ cried Robin as Simon wound down the window.

"_Gene?"_

Shaking his head, Gene stared at them with a mix of disapproval and amusement.

"The pair of you scream like a couple of five year olds who've just found out Santa Claus doesn't exist," he said.

"Where the hell did you even _come_ from?" Simon demanded as he noticed Alex approaching too.

"Followed you," frowned Gene as though it was the simplest answer in the world.

"All the way from London?" cried Robin.

"You couldn't have called my mobile?" cried Simon, "or, I don't know,_ beeped your horn_ or _something_ instead of giving us bloody heart attacks?"

"No."

"Oh." There wasn't much to say to that. "OK."

Robin nodded towards the building.

"Layton's in there," he said quietly."

"Just get in, would you?" Simon told them, opening the back door for them to get inside, "too much bloody unwanted attention with you hanging around outside."

Gene reluctantly shifted himself into the back with Alex.

"After experiencing the height of comfort in me Aston Martin this is like sitting on a bed of nails," he complained.

"That can be arranged," Simon threatened.

Robin looked at Simon nervously.

"I haven't heard any voices for hours," he said quietly, "is it already too late?"

"I don't know," Simon told him honestly.

"Has he shot me already?"

"I really don't know, Rob," Simon told him, worry splashed across his face, "maybe time out there is just…." He paused, "waiting for us to catch up."

"Here," Gene fumbled at his wrist then threw something into Robin's lap, "what does this say?"

Robin looked down and found a watch laying across his leg. He picked it up and stared at it.

"Half past one," he said quietly.

"Is it ticking?"

Robin held the watch to his ear, holding his breath. The sound of the second hand moving round was beautiful. He closed his eyes and nodded silently, barely daring to acknowledge it.

"Good," said Gene. He held out his hand, "Now give me me bloody watch back."

Robin frowned slightly but passed the timepiece back over his shoulder.

"There," he said.

Gene took it back and fastened it to his wrist, then looked back at Robin.

"You ready for this?

"Not sure _ready_ is the word," Robin admitted, "But," he nodded, "I have to do it."

"Robin," Alex's voice was quiet and as he turned to her he could see her face laden with emotion, "I need you to do something for me. When you get back."

Robin nodded.

"Anything."

"Tell Kim…" she paused and swallowed. Tell her what? What words could ever express her gratitude, "Just tell her… tell her she'll never know how much she's done for me."

Robin didn't know what she meant but nodded anyway.

"OK," he said quietly.

"So," Gene began, "what's your plan?"

Simon held the piece of paper he'd been given by the uniformed officers.

"Main entrance here," he pointed to a small diagram, "fire exit round the back. Layton is likely somewhere around the front of the building, the back had sustained a fair amount of damage and isn't really used by the… the less respectable members of the public. Gene? Alex? Are you in?"

"In_sane_," said Gene , "to be thinking about _helping_ you,." he looked at Robin. "Don't get your hopes up too much, Batman. Sam Tyler's fancy-schmancy paradox-beating time-travel techniques don't work for everyone."

Robin swallowed

"It'll work," he whispered, "because it has to."

That was the moment the radio chose to switch itself on again, this time at full volume, with a song bursting through the speakers that chilled Robin to the core.

_# …You took the tunnel route home,_

_you've never taken that way with me before._

_Did you feel the need for change?_

_Apologies on your fingernails,_

_love flickered in the city of lights,_

_Like intermittent radio waves… #_

"What the fuck is going on?" Simon looked at him anxiously, "what the hell song _is_ that?"

Robin turned as white as a sheet.

"A song that isn't released for another thirteen years," he whispered. He closed his eyes and drew his hand to his head. Suddenly the pain was back. The last time he hard those lyrics, he soon ended up taking a bullet in the back and waking up in Gene's world. Things were moving now. Things were moving at breakneck speed.

"Think that's your friend Mister Layton."

Gene's voice moved Robin away from his thoughts. He looked up, his hand still against his forehead, and stared out of the windscreen as a figure left the building, half-shielded by darkness, and started to move shiftily away.

_Shit –_

It was now or never. It _had_ to be now. Wait a moment longer and lose him forever.

Robin breathed faster and faster, his heart speeding up as he clasped his gun, then without waiting a moment longer he threw open the car door and let his legs take him with speed towards the man, never once looking back.

"_Robin –"_ Simon called his name, even though he knew he couldn't hear him. He tumbled from the car while Gene and Alex climbed out of the back. _"Robin –" _Simon swallowed as he watched Robin approaching Layton. He turned to Gene and Alex, "Should we –"

"We wait," Alex said quietly. She thought tearfully back to her first days in Gene's world, her anger as she was stopped from taking Layton down alone. Despite all that had happened since there was always a part of her that had wondered whether she'd have found a passage back to the real world if things had gone as she planned. And while she wouldn't have changed her life for the world, she couldn't help but wonder. Perhaps that was how _Robin_ would find his way home.

X

The music grew fainter as he ran. It called to mind a terrifying night, running to the barge. Back then he'd left the music playing so that he knew when he heard it again they would be safe. This time, as he heard the music fade, the further away the sound of the song he grew the closer he got to home.

There he was. Layton. _Close._

"_Freeze," _Robin cried as he held his gun in front of him.

His voice stopped Layton in his tracks and he stood against the wall, eyes open wide with shock. From the look on his face he'd been at his own stash. He dived back towards the doorway, hoping that the building would provide some kind of shelter or distraction. He knew that the back of the building was in a mess and provided the best chance he had of escaping scot-free – windows had been smashed, piles of rubble made rooms hard to navigate and he had the advantage over Robin, or anyone else who tried to accost him since he'd already explored them at length.

Robin hadn't expected him to double back on himself to the building, he'd expected him to run the other way and the change of direction caught him a little off-guard.

"_Shit,"_ he mumbled, spinning around and giving chase. He panicked a little. Should he shoot? Was he supposed to bring Layton in dead or alive, for that matter? Which would help him home? Which would stop the man by his bedside from pulling the trigger? How the hell was he supposed to figure this out?

The pain in his head grew stronger and he flinched as he ran along. It slowed him for a moment, his hand reaching to his temple. Oh _god_, he could feel the gun there, pressed up against it; the hard, cold metal… unfeeling, unforgiving, determined to end his life.

Oh _god_, was this _it?_

Layton ran through the doorway into the darkness just as his voice played through Robin's head.

'…_One more problem out my way –'_

"_No!"_ Robin cried, as he put on a burst of speed. He reached the doorway and stared into blackness; darkness, _nothingness_, and then, from somewhere inside his head, the most blinding of lights took its place.

X

"Where the hell's he going?" Simon mumbled as he watched anxiously from afar, the sight of Layton running back to the doorway confusing him.

"What's batman _waiting_ for?" Gene cried, "_shoot his kneecaps off!"_

"_Gene!"_ Alex cried, "that's not regular police procedure!"

"Do I look like a regular policeman?" cried Gene.

They carried on watching, almost afraid to draw breath, as Robin turned and gave chase toward the building. Layton ran inside until darkness enveloped him and Robin pursued him, one hand reaching to his forehead,

"Oh _god,"_ Simon whispered, "_that_ doesn't look good."

But as Robin arrived at the doorway, something happened. A moment before he'd be caught up by the dark interior of the room he stopped, a hand to his eyes as though blinded by something the others couldn't see. He froze where he stood, then dropped to his knees.

_"What the -?"_ Simon whispered, "Is he hurt? Has he been –"

He stopped talking as Robin raised his head to the sky, enveloped by awe for something no one else could see, and before them he faded until there was nothing left to see.

For a moment Simon thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. He stared and blinked, rubbed his eyes, leaned forward and tried to make sense of it.

"It's…. it's dark in the building…" he found himself rambling, "Robin must have… must have gone too far inside to see…"

"Simon, he's gone," Alex told him gently.

"He's in there," Simon tried to protest but even he knew that was a lie. He was clutching at straws. They'd _all_ seen it. Robin had vanished, _faded_, left the world in a split second of blinding light that had dragged him away. He stared on, half his mind in denial. It had been his decision to help him, he'd wanted to help him, but at the same time he hated to admit he was hoping that Robin wouldn't leave. He pretended there weren't tears in his eyes as he rubbed them away roughly with his sleeve.

"It's not supposed to be that easy," Gene said quietly, his understanding of his world falling apart more with every new development.

"I wouldn't call that easy," Alex said quietly, "a two hundred mile journey to find the man." She put her hand on Simon's shoulder and he jumped a little. "Simon? Are you OK?"

Simon just carried on staring. He heard the radio slowly fading out in the car, its job done for now. The empty space where Robin had stood just a moment before showed no remnants of his passage to another time.

"I'm fine," he said quietly.

They left him standing and staring for a few moments more before they realised that he'd be waiting there all night if they let him. Gene elbowed Alex who made a face and rubbed her ribs dramatically.

"_Say something,"_ Gene mouthed to he, nodding in Simon's direction.

"_You say something,"_ Alex scowled back.

_"Why me?"_ Gene mouthed.

"_Your bloody world,"_ Alex told him.

"_Our world."_

"_Not tonight!"_

Gene sighed. He looked at Simon; his shoulders slumped and his expression empty and desolate. They needed to get him out of there for his own good. They could leave Layton to the uniformed officers awaiting the cue to offer back-up.

"Alright, son, time to get out of here," Gene vaguely guided Simon around and turned his head towards the car instead of the building that he'd happily have stared at for an eternity. "Stare too hard and the walls'll cave in."

"We'll drive you home," Alex said quietly, "the pool car can wait."

But before they could move far the radio in the car burst into life again, and another chorus began to play out while from the decrepit building behind them gunfire was heard. Wide-eyed and startled, Simon stared Gene in the eye.

"What the fucking hell was that?" he demanded.

Since Gene had no answer to his question the three did the only thing they could – they turned and ran toward the building together, reaching for their guns and petrified of what they might find when they arrived. Did _Layton_ have a gun? Had Robin's stayed behind when he disappeared? Who the hell had he _shot_? What was going on in there? All manner of strange and terrible scenarios and possibilities played through their minds, but when it came down to it the reality was much, _much_ worse than any one of them could have imagined.

Bleeding and angry, Layton's cuffed image greeted them, shoved out of the doorway where he stumbled to the ground. The shock of that was soon overshadowed as their eyes rose to regard the person who had pushed him from the building.

"_Robin?"_ Simon stared, aghast, his jaw hanging open and his eyes widening.

"What the bleeding hell –" Gene began.

The three of them stared at him; his face so different from the desperate but hopeful Robin who'd vanished before their eyes. There were angry tears rolling down his cheeks, dark fury in his eyes and a bitterness in his expression that Simon had never seen before.

_"Robin?"_ Alex couldn't understand what had happened, "I thought... we all saw –"

"You _vanished,"_ cried Simon, "We thought you made it –"

But Robin's eyes were fixed on Layton.

"_Six weeks,"_ he spat as he kicked out and slammed his foot into Layton#s stomach which made him splutter and made Simon reel in shock.

"Rob, what the _hell?"_

"Six fucking _weeks?"_ Robin cried. He stared at Layton with absolute contempt, "Is that all I'm worth? Is that all I _deserve?_ I had my _life_ back! I was going to have a _family! _You took everything away from me –_ everything."_

"Robin, I don't understand," cried Simon as Robin tried to go for Layton again, held back at the last moment by Gene.

"You need to stop that before _you_ end up in the cells," he hissed, aware of the irony, all the years he'd spent jabbing the boot into suspects to get what he wanted.

"So?" Robin turned around, "it's not like I've got anything to lose. Not any more."

"Rob, I can't _understand_ this," cried Simon, his confusion reaching epic proportions, "I saw you vanish, I saw you disappear… I thought you'd gone home –"

"I did," Robin's frantic face turned to Simon. The anger was dissipating now, replaced by devastation, "I went home. I had six weeks – _six fucking weeks_ – and then _he_ came out of hiding." His eyes were overflowing and in his despair he could hardly speak. His words were slurred and stammered, "No one even knows how Kim survived –"

"Kim?" Simon repeated.

"What happened?" Alex whispered, trembling.

Robin swallowed and shook.

"_A bloodbath,_ they called it," he whispered, "that was the words of the station, not the tabloid press. Three dead, four injured. Kim's DCI… some DC who only joined a month ago… some uniformed officer who shouldn't have even been in the office at the time.. all dead. He stared in disgust at Layton, still spluttering on the floor. "And as for _Kim_, " Robin could hardly force the words out. His whole body shook and he barely stayed upright. His eyes focused on Layton, "you depraved, horrifying bastard – she was pregnant! She was fucking _pregnant!"_

"I don't know what you're _talking_ about!" Layton cried, "I don't know _who_ you're talking about."

"Whatever you've been through _this_ isn't the Layton behind it!" Gene tried to remind him, holding onto his arms to make sure he couldn't dive in for another round.

"They banned me from going after him," he cried, "said I was too close to it. So what happened – _he_ came after me while I was sitting at home."

"But I still don't _understand –"_ Simon cried, trying to work out what was happening.

"I'm _dead,_ Simon," Robin screamed, "I'm fucking _dead."_

Alex felt like her own heart stopped as she stared at his face; the despair he showed as hot tears ran from his eyes.

"Oh _god_, no," she whispered.

"It's all over," Robin bitterly pulled away from Gene's grasp and started to walk away, every pace a little faster than the last, every step a little angrier, "It's all over for me now."

Simon stared on, feeling his heart rate quicken and his hands start to shake. He couldn't quite believe what had happened. He couldn't process it. The last few minutes had seen events flip on their head in a matter of moments and he couldn't take it all in. And he knew that the moment Robin vanished he'd gone into denial, the moment he saw him disappear he'd have done _anything_ to see him come back - but not like this.

"_Not like this,"_ he whispered his eyes skipping from Robin to Layton and back again, "oh _god_, not like this." He swallowed as he watched Robin's pace quickening and started to run after him. He didn't know what the hell he was going to do or to say, he just knew he had to be there. He needed to follow. He needed to help him, somehow –

"_Robin,"_ he called after him. "Robin, _wait –"_

Robin couldn't stop walking. He couldn't cope. He didn't know what to do. His body just carried on, running on autopilot while his mind shut down. It was too much, too difficult for _anyone_ to handle. But eventually the voice behind him got the better of him.

"Rob, please, _stop_ – I'm here." There was a pause. "Let me be there for you."

Robin felt his footsteps slowing until finally he came to a halt. He froze, standing in the middle of the muddy grass bank like some sort of human scarecrow. He seemed to stand still for the longest time, then finally he turned around slowly and his eyes met Simon's.

"I've lost everything," he whispered, sobs breaking through his words, "it's all over."

Simons own eyes filled up until they slowly spilled over.

"I know," he whispered. He'd been there. Not so long ago, he'd been right there. "I'm sorry, I'm _so_ sorry, Robin."

He moved towards him, his arms open as his lip trembled. There were no selfish thoughts in his head no, no hint of feeling glad that he was back, or indulging in the fact that Robin could never find his way home to Kim, no thoughts of trying to win him back or relief that he was no longer alive out there. All he had on his mind was to offer the love and support that Robin needed from someone who has been right where he was now.

As he felt Simon's arms close around him, Robin's anger and devastation gave way to a pure and unrelenting sadness and the loud sobs broke forth against his shoulder. The arms that held him couldn't take away the pain but they provided the warmth and care that showed him he wasn't alone.

Robin's life was over; his fight and his journey to no ends. Where to go from there, he couldn't even _think_ about. Six weeks. He'd had six more weeks with Kim, six more weeks in the real world, six more weeks to live his life, and now it was over.

His heart stopped in one world and broke in another.

~xXx~

_**A/N: So I just sobbed my way through writing this entire chapter. Seriously not helping the migraines!**_

_**Special anniversary for me today. Two years since I sat down in the morning and told myself that I was going to write a piece of A2A fan fiction to undo the ending to the series and I was going to bloody well finish it if it killed me. Somewhere in the process I managed to slaughter my writer's block, a whole decade's worth of it, in fact. All thanks to Ashes to Ashes. I am seriously, deeply grateful for that.**_

_**Although I can't eat fish or biscuits any more. Nor can I watch Red Dwarf or Come Dine With Me in the same light. And I'm scared my toaster is going to kill me. And I have a phobia of people called Geoff and people who have beards. Don't even get me started on Andrew Ridgeley.**_

_**To everyone who's put up with my stupidity (and cruelty, I'm not particularly nice to any characters to be honest, I think I am an equal opportunity torturer!) thank you so much for reading and sharing this warped world. You are awesome :) x x x**_


	30. Chapter 28: You Have Been Loved

**Chapter Twenty Eight**

"_It's alright, Robin, just take your time."_

Alex's voice was every bit as soft and soothing as it had always been but Robin couldn't help thinking that she was going into psychologist mode. He couldn't look at her, nor at Simon whose hand was trying to hold his comfortingly, nor Gene who was wafting a large glass of brandy in front of his face.

"_You don't have to talk if you don't want to."_ He heard Simon talking but he couldn't take in a word he was saying, "_tell us when you're ready."_

_Ready?_ Was there ever a time to be ready to talk about something so gut-wrenching, so heart-breaking, so utterly devastating as losing it all? He didn't think he would _ever_ be ready.

"_Here. Get this down you."_

The brandy that had been wafting in front of him came at him with a little more force and he practically inhaled the damn thing as it arrived right under his nose. For a truly horrible moment Robin thought Gene was going to force feed it to him. He took it before he could find it shoved up his nostril. It wasn't for some time that he realised he hadn't even said thank you. He felt like the rudest person who'd ever lived, but at the same time he knew too much time had passed now to tack on a 'thank you' out of thin air. He'd seem completely stupid.

"Can you at least tell us what happened to Kim?" Alex asked quietly. Finally Robin looked up. It was the first time he'd moved his gaze anywhere but the floor for the last half an hour. He saw a strong sense of concern on her face. "Is she alive? Will she be alright?"

Robin closed his eyes.

"She's alive," he whispered, "and I don't _know_ if she'll be alright."

"I don't understand," Simon rubbed Robin's hand but knew the gesture couldn't take away the pain, "you disappeared and then… it was only a few minutes, Rob, if _that_… how can six weeks have passed? And why did you come right back to where you vanished? Does… does that _happen_?" Simon turned to Gene. It was the first case he'd ever seen of that.

"Sam did," Gene said gruffly.

Simon rolled his eyes.

"Oh, Sam bloody Tyler, I should have known," he sighed.

Gene looked at him, vaguely mused.

"You really don't like him, do you?" he asked.

"Well he took the _piss_ out of me the first time I met him," Simon cried, "_and_ he called me a prat. And then he had a go at me for not getting there sooner when I followed you all the way up here to stop you from going to the bloody _pub!_ It's like he's got it _in_ for me!"

"Don't be so bloody soft," sighed Gene, "you're just pissed off because he wears a leather jacket better than you do."

"I'm not and he doesn't," Simon mumbled childishly.

"It was so bright."

Everyone turned to Robin, surprised to hear him speak at last. His eyes were still fixed downward. He wasn't ready to look anyone in the eye yet. He focused on the glass in his hand, on the floor, on the blood stain on the knee of his trousers, anything to stop him from looking anyone in the eye.

"What's that, Robin?" Alex said quietly.

Robin took a deep breath.

"I felt the light before I saw it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper and shaking with every word, "and I knew what was coming. I remember it… you know, from when I went back before." He didn't look up so he didn't see Alex and Simon nodding slowly. They both knew what that was like. "It was so strong, so powerful… the light just engulfed me completely and then… then there was this split second…" he swallowed, trying to force himself to keep going, "this split second where I knew I was back and I knew who was standing right beside me, and I didn't know _how_ I was going to stop him from pulling the trigger." With a trembling hand he slowly lifted the glass to his lips and gulped down a warming mouthful of brandy. It made his throat tingle and burn. "Turned out, all I had to do was open my eyes."

~xXx~

It was the last thing Layton had been expecting, for the eyes of the man with the gun to his temple to suddenly open and for Robin to be wide awake.

"Oh _shit!"_ Layton stumbled backwards. What the _fuck_ was this? How could Robin be awake? He'd been out cold for weeks, those eyes had been tightly closed. It made no sense – _"Fuck!"_ His lank, matted hair and the stubble on his face were no mask. He may have looked a great deal worse for wear than the Layton that Robin had given chase to but on the inside it was the same desperate, twisted man, just worlds apart.

_What do I do?_

_What the hell do I do?_

_Can't scream… can't seem to make a sound…_

_Can I move?_

…_Nope, not enough._

_Oh fuck, now what? I'm back, but there's nothing I… nothing I can do –_

He needn't have worried because with drugs in his system but very little food or drink his balance wasn't the best it had ever been and as he stumbled backwards he managed to crash into an equipment trolley, causing enough of a disturbance to alert the nurses on night duty.

"_Are you sure it came from this room?"_

_"It was from this direction, yes."_

"_But that's Mister Thomas's room and he's –"_

A growl and a cry from Layton struck Robin's ears as he pushed a nurse to the ground and fled from the room. Robin couldn't see them… he could only hear their voices –

"_That was him, that was definitely him –"_

"_Are you alright?"_

"_I'll be fine… just bruised my backside…. Quickly, raise the alarm… get security… call the police…"_

"_Oh, great week to take the guard off the door."_

"_It's a good thing the patient wouldn't be able to – oh… oh goodness, hang on…"_

_Footsteps... footsteps drawing closer… slowly closer… _

A din of bells and sirens started to ring out around the hospital as the alarm was raised, and a face loomed into view above him.

_"Robin?"_ the young nurse had a warm and friendly smile despite the shock she'd just faced, _"Hello, Robin. I see you're back with us?"_

_I am?_

_I AM…_

"_Alright, Robin, here's what I need to do – I'm just going to check a couple of things and then I'm going to bring the doctor in. He'll check you over properly and we'll see how you're doing."_ Her face was a comfort, a complete contrast to the manic eyes of Layton. "_Well done. Robin. You made it."_

Robin felt his heart thumping away in his chest. He breathed in and smelt the clinical cleanliness of the hospital. He stared at the light above him and saws swirling patterns of colour in his vision. He was alive.

_I made it back._

~xXx~

"They'd only taken the police protection away from my room the week before," Robin's voice was still trembling. Half the brandy had disappeared down his neck and he described to the others how Layton had been scared away by something as simple as opening his eyes. "Weeks… weeks must have passed very quickly after Alex got home. It was four weeks to the day she died." He drank some more brandy and lowered the glass, where a moment later the bottle loomed large to offer a refill. "thanks," Robin remembered to whisper this time.

"How long had you been unconscious?" Simon asked quietly.

"Almost two months," Robin whispered, "it was almost the end of February." He swallowed, trying to keep himself as calm as possible but it wasn't easy. Not when he'd just had his whole life taken away.

"Did you manage to recover?" Alex whispered, her long and painful fight to get back on her feet in 2011 clear in her mind.

"Quicker than I thought I would," Robin whispered, "but I had a good incentive.

~xXx~

He'd been staring at the clock almost from the moment he awoke. When the hell was she going to get there? When were they going to allow her to see him? Had anyone even called her yet or were they waiting until a more respectable hour? He supposed when someone tried to kill you in the early hours of the morning there was likely to be a wait for the rest of the world to wake up to that fact.

"_Oh my god, Rob –"_

Or maybe not.

The sound of her voice turned his world upside down. It set his heart in a loop-the-loop spin and made his whole body tingle with elation.

_Oh my God, Kim…_

He tried to turn his head but his body wasn't co-operating yet. He managed to twist it a smidgen but it moved right back. _Damnit. _He tried again. It only moved around by a few degrees but it allowed him to see her just a little better as she stepped through the doorway. For just a moment she froze on the spot. She stared at him. His eyes were wide open. Oh _god_, how she'd dreamed of that. How desperate she'd been to see that. Her legs almost went from under her as she saw them; the dark brown eyes that spoke so deeply to her soul.

Quite suddenly she found herself drawn to him like metal to a magnet and she ran across the room with an explosion of tears that ran down her cheeks. She cried out his name again and again as her arms quickly cradled his head and her lips moved towards his. He couldn't move enough to kiss her back but the sensation of her lips against his brought all the life back into his body. He yearned for control of his body and his voice again. Oh _god,_ there was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to tell her. He felt his eyes misting over as she sat down beside him and gripped his hand. _Shit _– he didn't want that to happen! He wanted to be able to see her clearly. He blinked a few times and cleared his vision enough to see her face smiling back at him.

There it was; _that smile._

His prize. His reward for getting home.

"Shit, Rob," she whispered. He could hear her voice wavering as she fought hard to keep the tears away, "what the hell took you so long? Don't tell me, you got lost on the latte run?" She wasn't sure but she thought she saw his lips flicker just slightly upwards in a smile.

He stared at her. He listened as she explained that he was still mostly paralysed from his medication and that he would regain more feeling and movement soon. He stared at her features, committing every inch of her face to memory. Most of all he just laid back while his mind screamed a silent thank you to both worlds for allowing him back.

The line about absence making the heart grow fonder? Yeah, it was totally true.

~xXx~

"She stayed all day," he whispered, "they tried to make her go home to sleep, she wasn't having it. Stole an extra armchair from somewhere, managed to make a makeshift bed, slept beside me all night." He took another mouthful of brandy and let it swill around his mouth before he swallowed it. His tongue was a little numb now. It didn't make talking any easier, especially when he was still shaking like crazy. "Was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen, the moment she ran towards me. Can't even believe they called her in the night. Must have got her up at a stupid hour… her hair was a mess and she said she's put odd socks on by accident,…. Didn't matter," the saddest of smiles washed over his face as he thought about her.

"Oh _Robin,"_ Alex whispered, her heart breaking for him. He'd fought so hard – how could life have been this cruel?

"Saw the bump right away," he whispered, "she was wearing one of my shirts… trying to hide it a bit I suppose. Couldn't hide it from me though." There was one tear that escaped as he spoke. He reached up and knocked it away crossly. "Oh _god_, I'd never felt anything like it, the emotions I felt at that moment… I just… I just wanted to reach out and touch it, to make sure it was all real, after what we'd gone through before. I managed to move my fingertips a little and tried to point," he gave the most distant of laughs while his tears started to edge back into play, "she told me she didn't 'speak' finger. " He closed his eyes. The reality of the situation was crushing him, pressing down on his chest and making it hard to breathe. "By the next day I could talk at last and move a little… I… I don't think we stopped talking all day. I mean, I didn't _want_ to stop. I needed to hear her voice, all the time. It helped me to know that I was really there… that she was really beside me." He finally looked up at Alex. "I gave her your message," he whispered, then turned to Gene, "and yours, about the scotch," he swallowed, "she told me.. she told me what she did for you…"

Alex and Gene looked to each other for a moment.

"It wasn't for me to tell you, Robin," Alex said quietly.

"What…. What did she do?" Simon asked.

"She helped me home," Alex said simply.

"Yeah, I knew that, but –" Simon began but Gene shook his head.

"Not the time, Shoebury," he said grimly.

Robin barely heard.

"We started filling in the blanks," he said quietly, "I told her everything that happened after I woke up here. She told me everything that happened since the day I was shot." He stared at the ring on his hand, "even finally got to make the engagement official," his voice cracked over those words. It was something that broke his heart to remember as he realised wedding rings would never have a chance to join the engagement ones on their fingers.

~xXx~

"_I don't know where the hell it's gone –"_

"_Robin… hey, Rob, calm down."_

"_Kim, thank god you're back, I just woke up a few minutes ago and it had gone."_

"_What had?" _

"_My ring! I reached down to play with it and it had gone."_

_"Well it's not a toy, Rob, that was your first mistake…"_

"_You know what I mean!"_

"_Robin –"_

"_I looked all over… I had the nurses turn out the bed and everything in case it fell off in the night –"_

"_Oh no, Rob, you didn't?"_

"_Someone must have stolen it."_

"_I think you might be jumping to conclusions here."_

"_It had to be that bloody Layton!"_

"_Why would he steal your ring?"_

"_Because he likes sneaking into my hospital room!"_

"_He did that once and he was going to kill you. I don't think he's on the lookout for finely engraved jewellery."_

"_Why aren't you more upset about this, Kim?"_

"_Well –"_

"_You bought me this ring… It means so much… meant so much to me. And now…"_

"_Rob, listen."_

"_What?"_

"_Do you really not know what's happened?"_

"_Does it look like I do?"_

"_Have you no idea what the date is today?"_

"_Date? No."_

"_Shit. Rob, you do know this is a leap year, right?"_

"_It is?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Oh."_

"_And you do know what happens on leap day, right?"_

"_If you're expecting me to leap out of bed you've got a while to wait yet."_

"_Shut up and look here."_

"…_?"_

"_See?"_

"_Wha – that's my ring… what did… why did you take it back? I mean, what – oh… oh my god…"_

"_Are you getting the picture now?"_

"_I… I think so."_

"_Good. Because I think we need to make this official. So someone's got to ask the question…"_

~xXx~

"She told me not to make her get down on one knee because she'd never be able to get back up," Robin whispered. A tear dripped right into his brandy. He moved the glass away. He didn't want that getting diluted.

"It sounds beautiful," Alex said quietly. She looked at Robin with concern. His face was contorted with a mix of memories that warmed him and a gut-wrenching sadness that he couldn't bear.

"It took two weeks before they let me home. I thought it would be longer but I worked really hard at getting stronger. And besides," he glanced up guiltily. "I _pulled an Alex."_

"I've patented my _'I'm fine'_ face," Alex teased, "I'll start charging royalties."

Robin gave her the tiniest smile.

"There was damage," he whispered, "permanent damage from the bullet. I was in so much pain. Took so many painkillers I thought I was going to start rattling. My walking… it wasn't going very well. I had to use sticks. But at least I was out and home. Back in my bed. Back in my kitchen. The night I cooked for the first time, _that_ was when I really believed it."

"Believed what?" Simon asked quietly.

"That I was alive."

~xXx~

"_Shit, I've missed your cooking."_

"'_I've missed cooking it. I didn't get a lot of chance to cook in ninety seven. Nor in the hospital."_

"_Yeah, sorry they wouldn't let me bring you the bloody Easy Bake oven you asked for…"_

"_Look, can you stop bringing that up? They'd just changed my medication, I didn't know what I was saying!"_

"_That would explain the three choruses of Echo Beach you serenaded me with as well."_

"_How about you shut up and eat your pizza?"_

"_How about you shut up or I'll pierce your arse?"_

"_The arses are back! The arses are back!"_

~xXx~

"That was the kind of thing I'd missed so much," Robin whispered, "just… being stupid. Picking on each other. Hearing her laugh." He sipped his brandy and rubbed his eyes. "I'd been home about a week when Kim went back to work. Light duties. She was getting bigger by then. I think she was glad to get back to it_, _even though her DCI kept hassling her about that fast track thing and DS Fullerton was trying to start a campaign to clear the name of DI March over the whole… _Nick Nailer cut out_ business. I think he'd ben inspired by Beard Relief."

Alex turned cold.

"They actually went _through_ with that?" she whispered.

Robin nodded.

"It was a partial success," he said, "Lots of people donated… unfortunately an equal number of people were so distressed and traumatised by the show that pretty much all the profits went on lawsuits to provide compensation to those affected. But the message behind the campaign seemed to get across and Evan is growing a new beard as we speak."

"Why do I suddenly have the strangest urge to buy a new razor?" Gene mumbled.

"When I'd been home for a couple of weeks Kim had her scan," Robin whispered. He closed his eyes as it became harder to speak, "they told us it was a girl. Fit, healthy and strong. She teased me that I should have been the one on the table, getting the scan done. Said I was going to give birth to a big tin of beans." He looked at Alex, "While we were there… while we were in the hospital…" he paused and swallowed, "she took me to see her." He bit his lip, "your baby." The look on Alex's face broke his heart all over again. He didn't know if he'd done the right thing by telling her that. He saw her eyes immediately filling with tears and her lower lip began to tremble. "She's beautiful, Alex," he whispered, knowing full well his own eyes were filling all over again, "so tiny, but fighting. Fighting so hard. They gave Kim hassle at first, stopped her from seeing her because she wasn't a relative. But they relented eventually and Kim visited her every day."

"By _'relented'_," Gene began, "you mean –"

"_Were scared of Kim_, yes," Robin nodded. He looked back at Alex. "Alex?" she looked up at him, tears silently falling, "there's one other thing you need to know. About your baby…"

~xXx~

They both felt out of place sitting in stuffy clothes in the middle of the solicitor's office. Kim looked like she'd been forced into the outfit to go to Sunday school and Robin thought he looked like he was going to a funeral.

"_While adoption isn't our main area of expertise I am sure we'll be able to help you here,"_ the solicitor scanned a document before him, "_your close friendship with the child's deceased mother and the fact that you were the representative adults involved in her own care are both weighing heavily on your side."_

"_What about the pregnancy?"_ Robin asked, _"Will this affect our chances?"  
_

"_It's unusual,"_ the solicitor admitted, "_but quite often the situation occurs the other way around. A couple will be going through the adoption process before discovering they're having a baby of their own, quite often by surprise in cases where the woman has been told she's unlikely to be able to have children naturally. I shouldn't think that this will complicate matters. "_

Instinctively they reached out to each other and linked hands

"_Do you really think that we have a good chance?" _Kim asked quietly.

"_You have a lot to offer an adopted child,"_ the solicitor said, _"secure income, stable home life – if you're happy for me to proceed I'll put the wheels in motion and begin the process."_

Robin and Kim looked to one another, their smiles anxious but excited.

"_Let's do this,"_ Robin whispered.

~xXx~

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything," Robin whispered as he watched Alex frantically wiping away tears.

"No, no," she whispered, reaching for a tissue and not finding any, "No, you _had_ to, I'm glad you did, Robin. I… you both…" she closed he eyes and took a staggered breath. She fought the tears as hard as she could but she started to cry and knew it would be hard to stop.

"What happens now?" Gene's tone was low and quiet and his face was grim, "now you're here?"

"I don't know," Robin whispered, "I don't know whether Kim will be able to go ahead with the adoption… Oh god, I hope so. It's the only thing… the only thing…"

He stopped and closed his eyes tightly, gripping his glass for dear life. He knew he had to calm right down if he was going to continue. He took a very deep breath and let it out slowly. It didn't help that much but he tried again and again until finally he felt able to continue. He looked back at the floor.

"We tried to get back to normal," he whispered, "or as normal as things ever got. We looked for a bigger place, we were going to start viewing properties. Started to plan the wedding. I went for a visit at work, got given another stupid award to add to my collection along with the anti-beard award and the lump of shitty plastic I got for catching Nailer. Spent half my time cooking, getting back into my kitchen. I _had_ to cook all the time to keep Kim's stomach quiet, shit - that _eating for two_ thing isn't a load of bollocks, is it?" He downed the rest of his brandy and placed the glass on the floor between his feet. "I was even going to start going back to the gym, spoke to an instructor about therapeutic exercise to help get my strength back with the injury I had. And I," he paused and flinched for a moment at the memory, "and I even –" he rolled up his sleeve slowly. The bottom of a piece of artwork peered out, "She drew this for me while I was unconscious," he whispered, "I'm so glad I was able… so glad I had the chance…"

He felt a hand on his arm as Simon reached out gently to give him the support and strength to go on.

"She's got a real talent," he said quietly.

Robin looked up in surprise. He hadn't expected a compliment for Kim to come from Simon.

"She has," he nodded slowly. His head turned again and his eyes focused on the ground. "_Six weeks,"_ he whispered, "almost six weeks to the day I woke up…" he saw Gene filling his glass again. He was grateful for that.

"Here," Gene said gruffly as the glass found its way into his hand.

"Thanks," he whispered. He took a deep breath, his voice quiet and disjointed as though trying to disconnect himself from the memory. "It was just a normal morning. We made breakfast. Took the piss out of each other. Had a conversation about which Pokémon Gene would never be able to ca-" He glanced guiltily at Gene, "I mean, discussed how Gene would be an excellent Pokémon master…"

"That's more like it," said Gene.

"And I just kissed her and waved her off to work. Normal day. No idea what was about to happen." He swallowed as his hands began to shake all over again. "I-I saw it on the news before I even got the call. They didn't say who had died or who had been injured. I started trying to call her, I was scared shitless."

"What happened, Rob?" Simon asked quietly.

"Layton was totally unhinged by then," he whispered, "Whether it was a slow decline in his mental state from the years of drug abuse or everything he'd done…" he shook his head, "he'd changed his appearance. Cut his hair, grew a beard… I hope that wasn't an Evan thing… all so he wouldn't be recognised." He took a deep breath. "He called in an old _favour,_ so they say, to get inside the station. Some copper with a habit actually agreed. Thought Layton was going for the seized goods. Didn't realise he was trying to seize lives."

"Was he going after Kim?" Alex whispered.

"That's the theory," Robin whispered. His speech became broken with tears as he continued. "No one was prepared, so… so when he walked in and just… just opened fire… no one was prepared to respond. DCI Huston was the first to take a bullet. They think he died almost instantly. But he didn't stop there, he just carried on firing until he had no bullets left, and even _then_ it didn't stop him. Amazing how much strength desperation can give you. One officer he punched so hard that he hit his head against the wall… cracked his skull."

"What happened to Kim?" Alex whispered.

Robin's head lowered. His voice became strained.

"He shot her twice," he whispered, "in the stomach."

The audible gasp that came from the others in the room would almost have been funny if it hadn't been for the circumstanced. _Synchronised gasping_. He couldn't bear to look at their faces. He could barely stand to carry on _talking_. His hands shook and his voice trembled as he whispered, "Yes. Before you ask, she lost the baby."

"_Fuck,"_ Simon found himself raising his hands to his head. He felt sick as Robin's words sank in. It didn't matter what his own thoughts about Robin and Kim had been, or how horrified he was at the thought of them procreating, he would never, _ever_ have wished this upon them. Not for a moment.

"Oh my god," Alex's voice was tearful as she absorbed the facts.

"She lost so much blood, no one knows how she survived," Robin whispered. The tears were falling so fast that his face was awash with them. "There was massive internal injury and bleeding. She was under the knife for hours while they patched her up. It took her forty-eight hours to regain consciousness. I don't know if I moved from her bed for more than five minutes."

"Robin," Gene's use of his name made him look up, "Stringer… when she was out… did she…?"

Robin knew what he was asking.

"No," he shook his head, "At least, she didn't think so."

"What do you mean?"

Robin closed his eyes.

"She couldn't explain."

~xXx~

"_Did you… I mean, were you there?"_

"_No. I… I don't think so. It's all so much of a blur."_

"_What do you mean, Kim?"_

"_I… I don't even know myself. I remember some things… I think I was somewhere but –"_

"_But what?"_

"_It certainly wasn't Fenchurch East."_

~xXx~

"She talked of darkness and pain," Robin whispered, "It scared her. It frightened the shit out of her. She'd come close to dying, more than once, and always felt like she was a whisker away from coming back here, but this was different and she couldn't understand why." He hung his head. "Losing the baby… It destroyed her. I don't think she stopped crying once. The only way that _I_ managed to…" he flinched as he thought about it, "was by focusing on the thought of catching that bastard. I begged to be allowed back to work to help with the manhunt. I did everything I could but they told me I was just too closely connected and I had to stay away." His face twisted up in devastation. "And look where staying away got me."

"What happened?" Alex asked gently.

"It was the first time I'd been home in four days," whispered Robin, "I didn't want to but the hospital made me. They insisted I got some rest. Plus, my feet were setting off the smoke detectors so they said I needed a shower." He swallowed. "I heard the sound of the door opening. I hadn't even thought to put the latch on and breaking in somewhere was no problem for someone like Layton." He shook his head. "He said it was personal now. He said there were voices in his head telling him to kill me. And although I tried to fight back… tried to stop him… I was still weak… I mean, my body was…" he trailed away and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He'd tried so hard.

"Robin, I'm so sorry," Alex whispered.

Robin swallowed. He drank a lot of brandy and closed his eyes. The alcohol was just starting to turn him numb. _Good_.

"He didn't even hesitate. He just fired, again and again," he whispered," I remember… I remember closing my eyes as soon as I knew he was going to fire. I didn't want to see the bullet heading my way… didn't want to see the blood. I could feel myself falling. The pain was so bad that it… it hit some other level, like it went way off the scale until I couldn't feel it any more. And then," he drew in a deep breath, "and then I opened my eyes. And I was right there. The doorway. Right where I vanished." He shook his head angrily as his bile began to rise. "I could hear him… hear his footsteps running into the darkness. I just followed, like I had some kind of inbuilt instinct where to go. It was so dark and as I went into one of the rooms he jumped me, but… but I guess my anger was stronger than his desperation because I threw him right off me and I fired. Honestly?" he looked up, "I wanted to kill the bastard. But I think I only hit his shoulder. It was so dark, I couldn't see properly anyway." He squeezed his eyes closed before he could start to cry again. "He dropped to the ground and started swearing his head off at me. I started to cuff him, and that's when…" he paused and drew in his breath, "that's when this little TV in the corner of the room switched on… just _pinged_ into life. I saw them." He could hardly speak now, "the ambulance crew. They tried to revive me but it was… it was hopeless, and…" he swallowed, "and they stopped trying. _Time of death, ten fourteen a.m. _No sooner had they said so, the telly flicked off and that was that. My life. Over." His face began to crumble, "everything I cared about," his voice gave out, _"gone."_

He'd fought the tears so well but he couldn't fight them any longer. The sobs he descended into shook his body and filled the air with painful sounds. No one knew what to do. There were no words or actions that could take the pain away from him. There was nothing that could be said or done to help him when his world had ended after fighting so hard.

"_I'm sorry –"_ that was all he could hear around him as three people realised that there was little else to say. All the arms around his shoulders and glasses of brandy thrust into his hands couldn't take away the fact that his fight had been for nothing.

Six more weeks; that was all he'd had.

But every moment of them would be engraved on his mind forever.

_~xXx~_

_#...She takes the back road and the lane_

_Past the school that has not changed_

_In all this time_

_She thinks of when the boy was young_

_All the battles she had won_

_Just to give him life_

_That man_

_She loved that man_

_For all his life_

_But now we meet to take him flowers_

_And only god knows why_

_For what's the use in pressing palms_

_When children fade in mother's arms_

_It's a cruel world_

_We've so much to lose_

_And what we have to learn, we rarely choose_

_So if it's god who took her son_

_He cannot be the one living in her mind_

_Take care my love, she said_

_Don't think that god is dead_

_Take care my love, she said_

_You have been loved_

_If i was weak, forgive me_

_But i was terrified_

_You brushed my eyes with angels wings, full of love_

_The kind that makes devils cry_

_So these days_

_My life has changed_

_And i'll be fine_

_But she just sits and counts the hours_

_Searching for her crime_

_So what's the use of pressing palms_

_If you won't keep such love from harm_

_It's a cruel world_

_You've so much to prove_

_And heaven help the ones who wait for you_

_Well i've no daughters, i've no sons_

_Guess i'm the only one_

_Living in my life_

_Take care my love, he said_

_Don't think that god is dead_

_Take care my love, he said_

_You have been loved…#_

_~ You Have Been Loved – George Michael_

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Yes, I feel like an arsehole for doing this to Robin and Kim :( This chapter was written at stupid o'clock this morning when the two youngest members of the household decided to get an early start to the day. I am sort of thinking about writing a fic based on the six weeks Robin was home but I'm not sure yet. I don't know if anyone would even read it but there's such a lot I'd love to expand on from this chapter. Anyway, I promise lighter stuff in the next chapter so no tissues needed!**_


	31. Chapter 29: I Could Not Love You More

_**A/N: I've apparently killed several people reading by killing Robin :-/ Erm… sorry for that – I think I killed myself in the process though… There are four more chapters and an epilogue left after this one, and I promise this one contains extremely minimal levels of angst!**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter Twenty Nine**

Alex turned to look at them one last time before she left the room; Robin finally asleep through exhaustion after all the tears had taken their toll and Simon lying beside him, staring at him as though guarding him from any more pain. She bowed her head a little as she closed the door and walked down the corridor to another room then knocked gently on the door.

"Gene, it's me," she said quietly.

She waited for a few moments and finally the door opened. The relief that flooded through her at the sight of Gene was powerful. Just being close to him brought her warmth and comfort and she felt herself drawn to him before she could do or say anything more. She closed her eyes and pressed herself against him as his arms stretched around her for a moment. He didn't need to say anything. His arms did that perfectly. Eventually they broke apart and he closed the door behind her.

"How's he doing?" Gene asked, his voice tense.

"Sleeping," sighed Alex, "at last. I think he finally wore himself out from the crying and the brandy did the rest."

"We'll have to buy him some bloody painkillers in the morning," said Gene.

"It _is_ morning," Alex said weakly as she looked out the window where the first signs of the sunrise were starting to show. She sank onto the bed. "Simon's staying with him."

"We'll drive back tonight," Gene told her, "get some kip first. Or _try_ to." He paused. "Might try to do a couple of things while were up here if Shoebury's happy to babysit. Got some lose ends to tie up."

"Oh Gene, you're not going to go and laugh at Nelson's _I Love London_ merchandise are you?" she asked, "the poor man, you know he thinks he got a good deal."

"No," Gene promised, "but I do need to stick me head in the Railway Arms. Someone else I need to see. If Nelson will let me."

"That probably depends on what you say about his London things," Alex pointed out. She lay back against the pillows, ignoring the tacky hotel duvet cover and looked at Gene with sad eyes. "Gene," she whispered, "how is Robin going to survive this?"

Gene laid beside her.

"I don't know, Bols," he said quietly.

"It's so unfair," Alex whispered, "six more weeks… that was all they had." She could see Gene didn't have any answers but that didn't stop her wishing that he did. "And Kim," she whispered, "she's lost everything, all at once. What's she got left now? How is she ever going to cope?"

Gene breathed in deeply.

"Because," he began, "someone not million miles from me described her as the strongest person she knew," he raised an eyebrow. It was true. Alex knew that Kim was a strong soul. But this was more than anyone should have to cope with.

"What's going on, Gene?" she whispered, "why has so much happened… so much that's dark? So much that's almost destroyed us… and people we know… people close to us?"

Gene shook his head slowly.

"I don't know," he told her honestly, "but we've been through rough times before. We'll survive because we always do. Not going to get out that habit now."

They both fell silent as they lay side by side, knowing that just along the corridor a broken man was sleeping. They both knew Robin was going to need a world of support. They knew life was going to take a long time to get back on an even keel. But they were stronger now they were together again. They would survive, every one of them.

~xXx~

Gene shovelled down another forkful of chips.

"How can you eat that for breakfast?" Alex pulled a face.

Gene swallowed his mouthful.

"Because we went to _sleep_ at bloody breakfast time and woke up at the end of lunch," he said simply as though that answered anything.

"You couldn't have picked a more neutral choice? A sandwich? Fruit perhaps?"

"Chips are made from potatoes, which are vegetables, which are more or less the _cousins_ of fruit," Gene told her, "Therefore I win." He stabbed the last few chips with his fork and ate them quickly.

"Why are you eating in such a hurry if we're not leaving until this evening?" Alex asked, "I don't even know of Robin's awake yet."

Gene swallowed and laid down his fork.

"Told you Bolly, got some things to do while I'm here."

"You're going to go and make fun of DCI Litton for that _'My Moustache Through the Ages'_ article you told me about, aren't you?" Alex accused.

"No," said Gene, "but you're just giving me ideas though."

"What then?" Alex asked.

"Nothing important," Gene told her. He wiped his mouth, stood up and waited. "You coming or what?"

"Coming where?"

"To check on Batman."

"Why do you want to check on '_Batman'?"_

"Need to borrow his sidekick," Gene told her and left the table before she could even ask. She groaned and shook her head as she followed him. As though the sleep deprivation hadn't twisted her head enough, Gene's half-nonsense ramblings were finishing the job nicely.

~xXx~

"_You_ knock."

"Why should _I_ knock?"

"Why not?"

"_You_ were the one who said we should check on them."

"If _I_ knock they'll probably think it's a raid."

Alex sighed and gave Gene a withering glance before knocking gently on the door and waiting. She tapped her foot on the ground and listened for footsteps.

"They might still be asleep," she warned.

"Shoebury won't be asleep when I give him his wakeup call," Gene told her.

Alex frowned.

"Have you got it in for Simon today or something?" she asked.

Before Gene could reply they heard the catch being taken off and the door opened. A very tired-looking Simon appeared, one hand to his face, rubbing his eyes. His skin seemed almost grey and his expression dark.

"Morning," he said quietly.

"Afternoon," Gene corrected.

"How's Robin?" Alex asked.

"He's still sleeping," Simon said quietly, "I'm trying not to wake him." He looked down and shuffled on the floor. "He's been having nightmares."

"You look shattered," Alex said quietly.

"I've been afraid to sleep in case he wakes up," Simon said quietly.

"You know what you need?" said Gene, "A brisk stroll and a guided tour through the 'ighlights of me home town."

"No thanks," Simon sighed, "I need to stay here for when Robin wakes up."

"It'll do you good," said Gene, "discovering yer cultural heritage."

"Gene, I have to stay here," frowned Simon, "Robin won't be sleeping for much longer, I can't go out."

"Bolly will babysit," Gene told him.

"I will?" frowned Alex, "I don't remember agreeing to this."

"Thanks, but I'd rather stay he- _Oof,"_ Simon gasped as Gene pulled him out of the room.

"I'll take up ten minutes of yer time," he said,

"What, the _Gene_ universe where ten minutes means half my bloody _day?"_ Simon folded his arms, "I know your _'ten minutes of your time'_. I've fallen for that before."

Gene wasn't going to take no for an answer though. He politely but firmly pushed Alex into the hotel room and herded Simon down the corridor. _A man on a mission, _that was him.

"What exactly do you want with me?" Simon demanded.

"A trip down memory lane for a start," said Gene.

Simon froze and stared at him in horror.

"Please, _please_ don't tell me you're about to take me on a guided tour of the location where you… and my mother…"

"Jesus, what do you _take_ me for Shoebury?" cried Gene, "A pervert of the highest order? _No!"_ he gripped Simon by the collar and pulled him to the hotel lifts. "I need yer help."

"In what way _need my help?"_ Simon asked suspiciously.

Gene looked somewhat uncomfortable.

"I think you'll understand when we get there," he said.

~xXx~

"Oh God, Gene, _no,"_ Simon covered his eyes, "For god's sake, why have you brought me here? It's even worse than the thought of you showing me my..." he blanched, "_place of conception."_

"Will you calm down and stop behaving like a bloody mouse-man?" Gene demanded.

"Well why have you brought me back to the place Robin arrived?" Simon cried, gesturing to the jewellery shop nearby, "this whole thing isn't something I want to revisit, for _many_ reasons."

"It's got nothing to do with bloody Batman," said Gene."

"If you're thinking of buying him a new watch, don't waste your money," Simon pouted.

"I need yer assistance," Gene told him, "think of it more like a replay."

Simon frowned in confusion as he watched Gene walking towards the jewellers and quickly ran on behind.

"For god's sake, Gene, I've had no sleep, I can't my brain in gear and you're going for the bloody cryptic clues? What are we _doing_ here?"

Gene stopped just short of the doorway and turned to Simon looking awkward. He shuffled his feet against the paving slabs and cleared his throat.

"Look," he mumbled, "When me better half woke up in two thousand and bollocks her ring vanished."

"Her ring?"

"The one you gave me some _vague_ assistance in choosing," Gene grunted, "It didn't go with her. Didn't come back when _she_ did, either."

Simon began to understand.

"Sorry," he said quietly.

"I need to slap a band on her finger," Gene said delicately.

"Of course," Simon nodded quietly.

"Think Batman's bleeding heart story got to me last night" Gene said reluctantly, "wasted enough bloody time in the past. Last time I put a ring on her finger I knew she could wake up at any time. That always scared the living Ridgeleys out of me. This time," he straightened his jacket a little, "I know she won't vanish into thin air."

Simon nodded.

"True," she said.

"Thing is," Gene reminded him, "Gene Hunt does not _do_ girly jewellery."

Simon closed his eyes and sighed, leaning back against the doorway.

"Oh right, I _forgot_," he sighed, "_Sorry_."

"Nor does Gene Hunt do poncey jewellery shops."

"Is there anything Gene Hunt _does_ do?" Simon demanded.

"Yes," said Gene, "punching."

He waved his fist under Simon's nose, who gulped and quickly opened the door.

"Right," he said, "in that case let's get this over with."

Simon stood back and waited for Gene to pass through into the shop before he followed him. It felt strange and a little sad to think that they'd been there only a week or so before in time to see Robin's shock entrance into the world. How much had happened since then? It was terrifying to think about. He noticed Gene hanging back and shooing him towards the counter. He scowled and rolled his eyes but reluctantly paced towards the shop assistant.

"Good afternoon sir," she smiled, "how can I help you?"

Simon sighed.

"Hello," he began, "The gentleman over there," he pointed to Gene, "is looking for a replacement engagement ring for his fiancée."

"Oh," the assistant glanced at him, "well, if the _gentleman_would like to come and tell me what kind of ring he's looking for then –"

"Here's the thing, "Simon folded his arms and leaned across the counter, "unfortunately the aforementioned _gentleman_ doesn't _do_ poncey jewellery shops, neither does he _do_ jewellery purchased therein. He will not respond positively here to the use of words and phrases such as '_beautiful', 'delicate', 'romantic'_ or _'this ring will make your proposal a moment to cherish'."_

The assistant seemed somewhat nervous.

"Oh," she said again.

"So I thought it was best to warn you," Simon continued, "that your success in selling this gentleman a ring today will depend upon your ability to keep away from certain topics and words. Any direct reference to his engagement results in no sale. Any questions about the _big day_ or comments about taking someone up the aisle will result in no sale. Questions pertaining to his fiancée's birthstone, eye colour, hair colour or _favourite_ colour will result in no sale. This whole transaction is going to move as swiftly and clinically as possible without any reference to love, passion, romance or spending an eternity together."

"And is there anything that I _am_ allowed to do?" the assistant asked sarcastically.

"Yes," said Simon. He looked at her pleadingly, "shove a ring under his nose, demand that he buys it and then we can get out of here and this whole thing will be over as quickly and cleanly as possible."

The shop assistant threw him a withering glance and really wished that she'd looked for a different job. Maybe working in the fish market? Or in an abattoir, for that matter. Anything would have been better than encountering those two gentlemen and their unusual ring-buying technique. She fastened the side of the desk and walked out towards Gene with a llarge and mostly false smile upon her face.

"Good afternoon, Sir," she said, "I hear you're interested I buying a –"

She glanced at Simon who seemed to be panicking and mouthing;

'_Don't mention rings! Don't mention rings!'_

"A… round item of finger-wear," she said instead,

Gene jabbed his finger at a display case.

"That one," he said.

The woman frowned.

"Pardon?"

"I want _that_ one."

The woman looked at the extremely delicate, beautiful and romantic ring in question, then turned a glare on Simon.

"Are you sure, sir?" she asked through gritted teeth, "only your _stooge_ here seemed to be suggesting you would be going for something rather less –"

"_Expensive?"_ Simon cut off her glare as he looked at the price tag.

The woman hesitated. That was a mighty fine price indeed. She could see her commission for the month going through the roof with a few more customers like Gene. She gave him a charming smile and took out the key to unlock the cabinet.

"It will be a _pleasure_ to help you sir," she said.

~xXx~

Simon rubbed his ear miserably and focused in the road ahead with a scowl as Gene drove back to the hotel.

"Thanks, _Gene,"_ he snapped, "thank you _so_ much for a brilliant afternoon. I don't know which part I enjoyed most, making a fool of myself at the counter to pave the way for a pain-free ring purchase for you, coming back to find you'd chosen _the_ most feminine ring in the entire bloody _shop_, the shop assistant deliberately stamping on my foot as she went to get a box from the storeroom or the fact that she flipped and tried to pierce my ears with a pair of diamond studs in a frankly unprovoked attack – _and_ insisted I had to buy the bloody things for hygiene reasons!" He shoved the box under Gene's nose. "What am I supposed to do with a pair of bloody diamond studs?"

"Save them as a thank you for the woman in the canteen when her big backside stops serving sprouts," Gene suggested as he pulled up into the hotel car park. He pushed Simon politely but firmly towards the car door. "Right. Thanks for yer assistance Shoebury but yer services are no longer required.

"They weren't required in the first place!" Simon cried, "What a waste of bloody time!"

"Get back to Batman and send Bolly down," Gene told him, "and not a word about the round item of finger-wear, OK?"

Simon opened the car door and stated to climb out.

"Why, where are you taking her?" Simon asked.

"For a drink," Gene said simply

"There's a perfectly good hotel bar for that," Simon told him.

"Staff aren't as friendly as where I'm going," said gene, "go on, bugger off. We'll be leaving at seven tonight, give you and Batman a chance to get something to eat before we leave. And make _sure_ he eats; I've had enough of people fainting all over the place for one week. People need to stay on two feet for a while."

"Fine," Simon sighed, slamming the door and beginning to walk toward the hotel. He didn't see Gene leaning over to wind down the window so he didn't expect to hear Gene calling his name. He turned around slowly and sighed. "What now?" he asked, "more jewellery you don't really want any help buying with?"

Gene ignored that.

"Forgot to say thank you," Gene told him.

"No need," Simon mumbled, "my presence was hardly required," he folded his arms, "except for comedy purposes."

Gene shook his head.

"Last time I couldn't even _point_ at a bloody ring," he said, "I think having you around…" he waved his hand, "doesn't matter. Thanks anyway, Shoebury."

Simon stared, slightly confused. What was Gene saying? Has Simon had helped him to mellow a bit? To get over his fear of poncy jewellery shops? Or maybe to realise there were more important things in life tan saving face or keeping up an image. He gave Gene a slight smile and nodded

"Not a problem," he said, and began trudging back towards the hotel again.

Gene nodded slowly as he watched him go. Whether as a friend or secret long-lost offspring, he had a very strong feeling Simon was always supposed to end up at Fenchurch East. Like both Alex and Sam before him his influence had helped Gene to evolve and change, to keep up with the rest of the world as it marched on by. He was starting to feel grateful for that.

Maybe change wasn't _always_ for the worse.

_~xXx~_

_#...Now that we're alone_

_No more hide and seek_

_You are the highest dream to me_

_And as you softly sleep_

_Then I can tell you what it means_

_Locked in my arms like lovers lie_

_I will not let you slip away_

_Is this the summer of them all_

_Is this my night of nights_

_That you came to stay_

_Here you are, owner of my heart_

_Just the way that love should be_

_And there is something I must say to you_

_If you promise to believe_

_That it's you I'm living for_

_And, I could not love you more_

_Seasons may come and seasons go_

_But these are the truest words I know_

_Face to face, eye to eye_

_This is the summer of our lives_

_One love that cannot die_

_Here you are, owner of my soul_

_Never let you say goodbye_

_And there is something I must say to you_

_We leave the world outside_

_And you have come to me at last, we start_

_Open up your heart_

_Let my deepest love inside_

_I'm only doing what I have to do_

_If you promise to believe_

_That I could not love you more_

_Here you are, owner of my heart_

_Just the way that love should be_

_And there is something I must say to you_

_We leave the world outside_

_And you have come to me at last, we start_

_Open up your heart_

_Let my deepest love inside_

_I'm only doing what I have to do_

_If you promise to believe_

_That it's you I'm living for_

_And, I could not love you more…#_

_~ I Could Not Love You More – The BeeGees_


	32. Chapter 30: She's A Star

**Chapter Thirty**

The crushing pain was already there when Robin awoke.

_This isn't fair. Where's my moment of glorious innocence? Those blissful seconds of ignorance where I forget that everything has been taken away from me before it all comes crashing down around me again. I don't even get that much?_

He opened his eyes slowly and saw strong daylight filtering into the room through a gap in the curtains. He couldn't place where he was for a while. He vaguely remembered the hotel but couldn't make a lot of sense of the night before. Slowly he pulled himself upright and rubbed his eyes as though he could rub away the truth.

"Hi."

Robin looked up in alarm as he heard a voice. He thought he was alone and the sight of Alex sitting in a chair across the room was the last thing he had expected. He pulled the covers up to his chest as he tried to work out what was going on.

"Oh, " he mumbled, "Hi," he coughed a couple of times, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were here," he looked all around, "where's Simon?"

"Gene asked for his help with something," Alex said quietly, "they asked me to stay with you until they got back."

Robin looked down.

"That's very kind of you," he said quietly, "but I don't need a babysitter."

"No," Alex said quietly, "but you don't deserve to wake up all alone either."

"I'm going to be waking up alone from now on," Robin whispered, "what difference does a day make?"

Alex's heart felt heavy. It broke for him all over again.

"Robin, I'm so sorry," she whispered as she got to her feet and walked across to the bed, "I'm just so sorry."

Robin breathed in slowly.

"Who's going to be there to look after Km?" he whispered. He looked at Alex, the worry weighing him down. "Her injuries are awful, Alex. She'll have no one. You know she's a loner. We had each other and… and that was about it. It was all we needed."

"Maybe… family?" Alex asked, knowing full well that Kim had been estranged from them for years.

"No," Robin shook his head, there's no one."

Alex moved a little closer. She tried to look Robin in the eye but he was finding it difficult to look anywhere but at his hand where his ring stared back at him.

"She'll be alright, Robin."

"You can't know that."

"I can," Alex insisted, "because Kim is the strongest person I know." She took a deep breath. "I panicked about her, being left all on her own too. Gene reminded me how strong – and how bloody obstinate – Kim can be. And he was right – if anyone can survive then it's her."

"I'm scared for her," Robin whispered, "and I don't know if…I don't think… I don't think I'll ever see her again."

Alex wished she could tell him differently but she had no idea what was ahead. She knew full-well the likelihood of Kim coming back to Fenchurch East in the near future was negligible. If she was going to come back to the station it was likely to be many years away. It seemed so unfair and so cruel to the woman who had just given her the chance to be with the man she loved in the world she loved. She'd seen so much of herself and Gene in Robin and Kim's relationship. Their parting struck even more of a chord with her.

"I know this might not mean much at the moment," she said, "but you know you have people here for you when you need us, right?"

Robin nodded slowly.

"Thank you," he whispered.

The sound of a key on the lock caught their attention.

"That must be Simon," Alex told him, getting to her feet, "I'd better go and make sure the rest of Manchester is still standing. I have no idea what Gene wanted him for but I think it's probably resulted in some kind of death, destruction or… or temporal paradox," she said.

"Now you sound like me," Robin gave a tiny smile.

Shit, so she did. It was all very well accusing Gene of staying at Simon's too long but her time at Robin's had affected her too.

"Gene was right about the existence of geek cooties," she said as Simon arrived in the room.

"Hi," he said, looking slightly shifty.

"Hello," Alex smiled sadly and nodded toward the bed, "Robin's awake," she said unnecessarily.

"Hi," Robin said quietly.

Alex glanced from Robin to Simon, both looking as though they didn't know what to say to the other. Eventually she decided to stop making it even more uncomfortable in there and get out of the way.

"Well, I suppose I'd better make sure Gene's not destroyed the known universe," she said as she shuffled towards the door.

"Oh, he's down in the car park, waiting for you," Simon told her.

Alex frowned.

"What does he want with me down there?" she asked.

"He said he's taking you for a drink," said Simon.

"At three in the afternoon?" Alex frowned.

Robin looked at her in confusion.

"Why is your watch still working?" he asked.

Alex bit her lip.

"I was dead on arrival," she whispered.

Robin hung his head.

"Oh," he whispered, "that makes sense." It sounded stupid but one of the things he was going to find hard to cope with was the lack of time. _Ten fourteen_ forever, and always would be. He tried to smile at Alex but his mouth wouldn't oblige. "Enjoy your drink," he said quietly.

"I'll try," said Alex, wondering exactly what was going on with Gene. She glanced at Simon, "what did Gene want help with exactly?" she asked.

Simon shuffled nervously.

"_Round things,"_ was all he would say.

Alex stared at him. She wondered if the late night drive to Manchester had just about killed off his brain cells. She smiled patronisingly and said,

"I'm sure he did," then left the room before she could worry any more about his mental state.

~xXx~

Gene noticed Alex looking at him curiously as she climbed into the car.

"So," she said, "you've already taken away Simon's ability to make sense, and now you're taking me for a drink at three in the afternoon?"

"Nothing for you to worry about Bolly," Gene told her, "all you have to do is get in, sit down and enjoy the drive."

"'_Enjoy'_ – that's an interesting word to use when I'm now paranoid about round things."

"What did Shoebury say about round things?" he demanded.

"Nothing," cried Alex, "that's the problem! I have no idea what he meant by round things! That was all he said!" she shook her head. "And now _you're_ acting funny about round things too." She pressed her hand to her forehead. "Oh god, I think I'm getting a headache."

Gene ignored her remark and tried not to think about the little box in his pocket. He needed to think about the presentation of the round object in question. He would have to come up with something better than falling down a hole and getting muddy before proposing this time. He didn't think she would appreciate a second trail of mud across the carpet.

"Batman awake yet? He asked.

Alex nodded and looked at him sadly.

"Yes," she said quietly, "he woke up just before I left."

Gene glanced at her sideways.

"How's he doing?" he asked a little awkwardly.

Alex shook her head slowly.

"I think you already know the answer to that," she said quietly. She couldn't bring herself to talk about Robin right then. It broke her heart enough to see him in such a bad way, let alone to vocalise it. She drew in a deep breath and tried to change the subject. "So where are you taking me?" she asked.

"All will become clear," Gene told her.

"I very much doubt it," Alex sighed, "what's gotten into you today?"

Gene sighed as he carried on driving.

"New appreciation for what we've got, Bols," he said, "so shut up and _appreciate_ the new me while it lasts or I'll start feeling the urge to find a filing cabinet in the next ten minutes."

Alex pulled a face.

"Like I suspected," she said, "as clear as mud."

~xXx~

"What are we doing _here?"_ Alex almost panicked as Gene pulled up outside the Railway Arms, "you'd better not be packing me off to the _saloon bar_ a second time. I still haven't forgiven you for sending me away the first time." She folded her arms and glared at him.

"Relax Bols, I need a quiet word with one of the barmen," Gene told her. They stepped out of the car just as a slightly confused Nelson peered out of the doorway.

"Two visits in as many weeks?" he asked. He wasn't sure what was going on. "It doesn't seem you're planning to stay this time, Mon Brave… not with this beautiful young lady on your arm."

"Alright, don't crawl, Nelson," Gene warned, "and no, I'm not planning to take up permanent residence here, propping up yer bar. Not yet at least."

"If you're here for our new bar snacks we're out of pickled onions," Nelson warned, "but we still have some sausages on sticks!"

"Classy stuff," Gene began, "but, no, I think me stomach died a little at the thought. I've come to see yer best barman if I may."

"Sam?" Nelson asked, "well, I won't stop you, my friend – but he is _very_ busy today."

"You go him scrubbing tables?"

"No, scrubbing the smell of pickled onions out of his jacket."

Gene hesitated.

"This is probably one of this occasions when it's best not to ask," he said. He nodded toward the doors. "Onwards, Bols."

Alex groaned and tiredly followed Gene.

"I would have been _quite_ happy going back to bed for an hour," she said.

As they walked inside Alex couldn't have been more surprised. The interior of the pub was different to the Railway Arms that Gene had sent her into all those years ago. She stopped still and found herself staring, trying to comprehend the difference. She felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped a little, in a world of her own.

"Sorry, Gene, she said with a little sigh, "I was just… I was looking and wondering –"

"This is just a boozer," Gene told her, "this is just where you go when you need to get a pint down you at the end of the day, not where you go to seek eternal joy or some other poofy bollocks along those lines." He nodded to a display on the wall where a T-shirt, some postcards and several photos of Nelson posing alongside everything from Tower Bridge to a pair of Beefeaters were placed below a large banner declaring, '_I Love London'_. "Have a word, will you?" Gene told her, "Think that's scaring off the regulars." She watched in horror as Gene began to walk towards a doorway to the back of the bar.

"Why? Where are you going?" she cried.

"Going to deliver a thank-you card," said Gene, "Except I'm too tight to buy one and too lazy to write one so I've got to do it verbally."

Alex watched in confusion as Gene opened the door and passed on through it, a faint hum of Bowie playing in the air. She was fast losing her grip on reality that day. The last few hours had been increasingly surreal. And as Nelson loomed towards her with a tray of sausages on sticks she had a feeling they weren't going to start making any more sense for some time.

~xXx~

The first thing Gene saw was the leather jacket, draped over the bar. There was a sponge and a can of air freshener standing alongside it.

"Is that pickled onion I can smell?" he declared loudly.

There was a friendly face behind the bar. More than that, it was the face of an actual _friend_. Strangely, it was a friend he hadn't seen in fifteen… sixteen years and now he'd seen him three times in less than a year.

"Gene Hunt, I thought after last week we'd seen the last of you for a while," Sam told him.

"I smelt the pickled onions from London and couldn't keep away," Gene told him.

Sam moved his jacket away from the bar.

"What can I get you, Guv?" he asked.

"A cold and foamy one," said Gene, "and a transcript of what you've said to Simon."

"Sam hesitated and pulled a strange face as he reached for a pint glass.

"Simon? He's the one with the cheap knock-off jacket, isn't he?" he said.

Gene waited for his pint to appear in front of him before he responded.

"Don't play dumb, Sam," he said, "you knew, didn't you?" he watched Sam look up warily, "you knew he was my son." The look on Sam's face hung somewhere between guilt and relief. Keeping secrets was never easy – especially not from someone who he'd known so well. Gene didn't have to wait for Sam to answer. He could tell it was a yes from the look on his face. He nodded and looked down at his beer. "What's your deal here, Gladys?" he asked, "you don't go from a DI being chased for promotion to a part-time barman without a good reason."

Sam looked uncomfortable. He started wiping out glasses for no real reason other than to give his hands something to do. Eventually he looked at Gene seriously.

"Nelson's really got his hands full, you know," he began, "Anyone tries to run two pubs single-handedly – especially when one of them also happens to be the afterlife – you're going to need some help."

"But it's not help behind the bar he needed, was it?" asked Gene. He saw Sam look away. "You do more than that."

Sam finally nodded and looked back up.

"Yeah," he said, "I do." He sighed. "You have to keep your eye on all those people… all those souls who find their way to you. Who keeps an eye on _you?"_

"Feels like everyone," Gene mumbled, "never get a moment's peace."

"I mean to watch out for your welfare" said same He sighed. "It's not like I'm staring at a security camera, watching you twenty four hours a day. But you need someone to keep an eye out for you, too.

"That's how you knew I was coming ," Gene began, "when you wouldn't let me get me backside on one of the permanent stools."

Sam nodded.

"We'd seen what happened," he said, "we also knew it wasn't your time."

"And you were right," Gene admitted. He nodded towards the door. "She's out there. Made it back. Currently giving your boss a few bits of advice about his fancy memorabilia."

"Good," Sam said with a nod.

"So," Gene took a long, cool drink of his beer, wiped the foam from his lip and sat his glass back down. "So," he said again, "_Simon."_

Sam sighed.

"It was obvious, Gene," he said.

"Not to me it bloody wasn't!"

Sam couldn't explain to Gene the ins and outs of the way things worked from the Railway Arms any more than Gene could explain to his men the nature of his world. He wished he could, but it was a different plain and one Gene wasn't ready to know the all details of yet.

"Tell yourself we heard some gossip at the bar," said Sam, "tell yourself someone gave us some juicy information. It's easier than understanding that we just 'knew'." He went back to shining glasses. "I remember what you were like, you know," he said, "when you came to work that day. Took me to one side and said, _Sam, I think I've had meself a bit of mischief with another man's bird._"

Gene cringed and buried himself in drinking his pint for a few moments.

"I didn't come for me turn on This Is your Life, you now," he said, "I wanted to know what you said to Simon."

"When?"

"When Bolly broke the pub," said Gene, "Simon's got a bit of a complex about you. It didn't help that you called him a prat, but I've called him worse so I can forgive you for that."

"I told him," Sam began, "that he was different. And he is. He bridges the two worlds, Gene. Now he's here there's always going to be a connection between them." He put down the glass he'd been shining and reached for another. "And I told him to look after you."

"Which he has," Gene admitted reluctantly, "I _suppose_."

"He's done you proud, Guv," Sam told him.

"You couldn't have quietly mentioned that me offspring was sitting right under my nose?" asked Gene.

"That was not for me to say," Sam told him.

Gene had to admit that Sam had a point. Even if he'd brought it up Gene wouldn't have believed him. He sipped his beer for a while until he said,

"So what's his purpose then, Gladys? What's he doing here? To bring down the credibility factor of me workforce with his '_I Love Arnold Rimmer'_ bumper sticker? Or to step into me shoes?"

"The first is more likely than the second," said Sam.

"I knew that much, he's the biggest nerd this side of the Fenchurch Comic Book Appreciation Society."

"No, seriously," Sam told him, "He's not waiting to step into your shoes. When you finally decide to spend more time in the pub," he looked around "which won't be for a long time yet, there are others who'll take to that role"

Gene frowned.

"No one can wear my boots, Tyler, they'd never fit."

"It'll happen," Sam gave the slightest smile, "_one_ day. And you'll be leaving things in safe hands."

"Well that's nice to know when me former friend and colleague is intent on consigning me to the scrapheap!" cried Gene, "you wouldn't let me pass over the bloody threshold a week ago when I wanted to!"

"A week ago, things were different," said Sam.

Gene breathed in deeply and let it out with a sigh. Sam was right – a week ago everything _was_ different. He felt for the box in his pocket.

"I've got a, uh," he cleared his throat, "special occasion coming up," he said, "your opportunity to laugh at me in a bloody tux, looking like a penguin." He paused. "What's the likelihood of Nelson letting you have a day off for good behaviour?"

Sam hesitated.

"I don't know, Gene," he said, a little sadly, "don't really have permission for outings. I got a one way ticket into here."

Gene nodded. He had a feeling that's what Sam would say

"Understood," he said.

"Not that I wouldn't love the opportunity to shovel confetti down your back and laugh at you slipping up on your vows," Sam pointed out.

"Now I'm starting to feel glad you're not allowed out," said Gene. He drank the last of his pint and got to his feet. "I'd better leave you and yer pickled jacket in peace," he said, "I left Alex on her own with Nelson and a bloody big batch of sausages on sticks. I'm afraid I'm going to find _Nelson_ on a stick when I go back out."

Sam laughed and extended his hand.

"Good luck, Guv," he said sincerely, "I promise we'll keep your drinks cold."

Gene scoffed.

"First time for everything in this pub," he said.

He nodded and turned around, then left the saloon bar behind, knowing he wouldn't be back for a very long time. Sam was right, everything had changed in the last week. Too many people had learnt the hard way how much they could lose in a short space of time. He was going to go out there and bloody well live his life.

~xXx~

_#...Whenever she's feeling empty_

_Whenever she's feeling insecure_

_Whenever her face is frozen_

_Unable to fake it anymore_

_Her shadow is always with her_

_Her shadow will always keep her small_

_So frightened that he won't love her_

_She builds up a wall_

_Oh no, she knows where to hide in the dark_

_Oh no, she's nowhere to hide in the dark_

_She's a star_

_She's been in disguise forever_

_She's tried to disguise her stellar views_

_Much brighter than all this static_

_Now she's coming through_

_Oh no, she knows where to hide in the dark_

_Oh no, she's nowhere to hide in the dark_

_She's a star_

_Don't tell her to turn down,_

_Put on your shades if you can't see,_

_Don't tell her to turn down,_

_Turn up the flame._

_She's a star_

_It's a long road_

_It's a great cause_

_It's a long road_

_Its a good call_

_You got it,_

_You got it,_

_she's a star…#_

_~ She's a Star – James_

_~xXx~_

_**A/N: Blimey, three chapters and an epilogue left. I might be posting an extra chapter today or tomorrow, I'm feeling a bit blah so I got stuck into some writing and I'm a little ahead. This fic will most likely end on Tuesday, then just a heads up I'm probably (depending on health) going to be travelling to Manchester on Wednesday to visit my in-laws for a couple of days (List of things NOT to do while in Manchester: 1) go to jewellery shops, 2) chase Layton. That's all I have on my list so far…) so I'm not sure when I'm going to post the first chapter of the sequel but it will be sometimes next week. The next story is going to be, uh… fairly out-there, but it's one of those ideas that I couldn't stop thinking about until I knew I had to write it. My updating may not be as fast for that one as usual because it's going to take me a while to wrap my head around it! :D**_

_**On another note – Eurovision tonight! Woo-hoo! (Yes, I am a sad case!)**_


	33. Chap 31: Another Suitcase Another Hall

_**A/N: Just sneaking on while waiting for the Eurovision voting to take place to post a shortish chapter! Shh! :)**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter Thirty One**

Robin had little recollection of anything that happened during the night. He remembered flashes of fevered dreams, but their content made little sense. He remembered screaming and crying but not for how long nor whether he ever stopped. He moved slowly out of bed, trying to keep himself together.

"Where, um," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "what happened to my shirt?"

"You soaked it through with sweat," Simon said quietly, "I had to help you off with it. I hung it over here." He fetched the shirt from the radiator and handed it to Robin awkwardly. He admitted silently to himself that he found it difficult to recognise Robin as the same man he'd been with for all those years as he caught sight of his body. Between the tattoos that Kim had etched across is torso to cover and detract from the scars Keats's attack left him with to the definition of his chest where a year of gym membership had changed his build, it was like looking at a different person.

"Thanks."

Robin took the shirt and gave it a cautious sniff. Simon wasn't wrong about the sweat. He closed his eyes for a moment, horrified at the thought of travelling back while stinking to high heaven. He felt stupid for even worrying about that. It wasn't important. In fact, very little seemed important now. He sat at the edge of the bed and slipped his arms into the shirt, then slowly fastened the buttons. He struggled, his fingers shaking from a mix of the bad night's sleep, hangover and emotional pain that were all plaguing him.

"Do you want to go for something to eat?" Simon asked. He wasn't surprised as Robin shook his head. "Or I could bring you something up?

"I'm not hungry," Robin said quietly.

"You've got to eat something." Simon was a hypocrite and he knew it. He'd barely eaten for months after finding himself stuck in Gene's world. He's survived on caffeine and tranquilisers.

"Later," was all Robin could say.

'Later' hid a multitude of sins and they both knew it. He could have meant in an hour, he could have meant midnight, he wasn't tied to a deadline. Simon shook his head slowly. He knew what it was like to be where Robin was right now. What he didn't know was how to help him, because when it came down to it he remembered that there was nothing anyone could say or do to ease the pain. Only time could help to heal a little of the gaping wounds being separated from love by life and death could bring. Luckily, in Gene's world, time was one thing they had in abundance.

~xXx~

"I don't want to _ever_ see a sausage again," Alex groaned with one hand held dramatically over her forehead.

"That doesn't bode well for me joy department," Gene commented.

"In fact, I don't want to ever eat again," Alex continued, "how many sausages did Nelson buy? He kept telling me he had a good deal… the only way he could have got a good deal on those things would be if the person who sold them to him threw in a timed device to blow the awful things up before anyone had to eat them!"

"No one _forced_ you to eat them, Bolly," Gene told her.

"You don't know what it was like," cried Alex, "you abandoned me with the biggest pile of sausages in the world and a landlord who was so proud of his new bar snacks that he wouldn't take no for an answer!"

"I'll do me best to cure yer fear of sausages tonight," Gene commented as they arrived back at the hotel.

"Surely an offer no woman could refuse," Alex wrinkled up her nose as she climbed out of the car.

~xXx~

Two cars drove back to London from Manchester at just after seven that evening.

Four people spent those journeys in near silence.

X

Simon watched Robin with concern as he walked quietly and solemnly past him, into the flat.

"I know it's late," he began, "but can I get you anything to eat?"

Robin just shook his head as he sat on the couch.

"No thank you," he said quietly.

"You've had nothing all day," Simon pointed out.

"I don't want anything right now," Robin told him.

Simon sank down beside him.

"Rob," he said quietly, "I know… I know how devastated you are right now and I know what you're going through but self-destructing isn't the answer."

Robin looked at him, aghast.

"What?"

"I made the same mistakes," Simon told him, "I didn't care about myself any more so I went to rack and ruin."

Robin got to his feet.

"Oh, Simon, spare me the lecture," he sighed, "I missed one meal, I'm not self-destructing."

"That's exactly how I started," Simon began "I _just missed one meal_ too."

"Well I'm not you," Robin said crossly. He stared at Simon and attempted to cool his frustration. He tried taking a few deep breaths but his anger wasn't going anywhere. He started to walk to the door and really didn't want to turn around as he heard Simon call,

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know," Robin threw his hands in the air, "I just know I can't stay here tonight."

"You need someone to keep an eye on you," Simon told him, "you shouldn't be alone."

"I _need_ to be alone," Robin corrected, "Simon, listen," he took a deep breath, "I get that you're concerned and I appreciate that, I really do." He felt a little of his frustration fading as he exhaled. "The problem is, you went through something similar and you think everyone's going to go the same way. And I'm sorry that things were so bad, I really am, but I'm not…. not on a path to self-destruction." He shook his head slowly. "Shit, Si, I've just lost everything. And nothing that I say or… or do is going to change that. And I think I have every right to be on my own so I can just try to start getting my head around it. I know you have the best will in the world but if you keep pestering me about things like eating then we're going to start fighting again and after everything… after all the air we cleared in the car on the way to Manchester, I really, _really_ don't want that." He looked seriously at Simon. "Look. I got pulled back into this world on a fucking permanent basis last night which is about the biggest shock you can get in your life. I had a bit too much to drink afterwards and I felt queasy all day. I didn't eat anything because I didn't want to throw up in the car. OK?"

Simon chewed on the inside of his cheek as he stared at Robin.

"OK," he repeated.

"I know you're only worried about me," Robin sad quietly, "but I'm…" he sighed, "I'm not _fine_, but I'm not going to collapse."

"Sorry," Simon said quietly, "I just remember too well what I went through."

Robin bit his lip.

"I'm not you," he said quietly.

Simon swallowed.

"No, he said quietly, "you're not are you?" he looked down "Everyone used to say we were two of a kind. Two peas in a pod. Like two halves of the same person."

"We were," said Robin, "in some ways. On the outside."

Simon stared at him.

"But you and Kim were the same on the inside?" he asked quietly. He saw Robin looking down awkwardly. "It's OK. You don't have to answer that."

Robin shuffled towards the door.

"I'd better go," he said quietly.

"Go where?"

"I'll find somewhere."

Robin didn't want to talk any more. He wanted to be alone, to think in peace and to be able to cry without being asked if he was alright every five seconds. He knew this was only the very start of a long and painful journey to learn how to live without Kim. The thought of never seeing her face again scared him beyond belief. But one thing was for certain- she'd helped him to grow too strong to curl up and die.

~xXx~

"It's late, Gene," Alex said as she rolled over in bed, "and I'm tired. It's been a terrible couple of days. Let's just get some sleep. Just –" she paused, "I just want you to hold me."

Gene frowned. Things had been lacking in the bedroom department since her return. He could understand that – there were many reasons why nothing had happened yet. Alex had only been back a few days and was still sore and exhausted. The trauma of their baby being left behind in 2012 had scarred her so deeply that bedroom shenanigans were the last thing on her mind too. And aside from anything else life had just been increasingly insane.

But Gene couldn't deny that he was growing increasingly desperate for the physical side of their relationship to spring back into action. He felt as though that would be the moment he really believed she was back. He didn't want to hurry her, after all she had been through he knew she needed time, but as much as he relished the feel of her body beside him as he wrapped his arms around her he yearned for more.

Alex felt a little guilty as she rebuffed Gene's advances. She knew how much he wanted it. Hell, _she_ did too. And it was true that she was still hurting physically from the gunshot wound and emotionally from being parted from their baby but there was more to it than that. She wasn't quite the woman that Gene used to know.

She bit her lip as she thought about the little tattoo on her stomach, taking the place of a bullet wound that her old body had worn. He hadn't seen t yet. She'd told him about the tattoo just after she'd made it back to his world before, but she always had the feeling that Gene hadn't believed she'd had a tattoo. She didn't know why she was so nervous about the thought of Gene seeing it but she couldn't stop worrying about what he would think – not just about her having a tattoo but the fact that the scar was no more.

One tiny difference in her physical body felt like something so much bigger on an emotional level. She knew that soon she would have to tell Gene and to show him the ink beneath her skin

_But not tonight,_ she thought to herself

~xXx~

Gene walked through CID, papers in hand.

"Guv –" a voice called but Gene held up his hand.

"Not officially here until tomorrow," he said, "consider me a big bloody mirage."

Despite both helping with the Keats and Layton tracking, and following Robin and Simon up to Manchester, Gene wasn't ready for Alex to stat work again full time yet. Nor were her official papers. She had another few days off and Gene was determined to make her honour at least one of them. He decided to pick up his post and a few pieces of paperwork early, before Alex awoke, to stop any arguments before they even started.

He opened the door to his office, marched through, threw the papers on his desk and screamed like an idiot as a head shot up from his chair.

_"ARGH!"_ Gene knew the second the sound escaped that whoever owned the surprise head had now head him scream like a girl. He also knew whoever owned the head would have to die so as never to be able to reveal this fact. Luckily for him the head screamed back so they were at least even. Eventually he calmed down enough to see that the head belonged to Robin.

"You mind telling me what you're doing in my office?" he demanded.

Robin rubbed his eyes and bit his lip guiltily.

"Sleeping?" he said.

"In my bloody _chair?"_ Gene narrowed his eyes, "_No_ one sits in my chair, I don't care who they are; Batman, Superman, Spiderman - superheroes can get the hell out."

"I'm sorry," Robin scrambled up. He should have known Gene's chair was far and away off limits.

"What were you doing sleeping in my office anyway?" Gene demanded.

"I had to get out of the flat," Robin said quietly, "I was in danger of killing Simon otherwise." He shook his head, "I appreciate that he wants to help. Not that he realty can. But he's going to drive me crazy."

"Killing you with kindness?" Asked Gene before he realised how tactless that sentence was. He flinched and shook his head. How many decades had he been in that world? And yet unintentional puns never seemed to end. "Don't you have an office of yer own to sleep in?"

"The flushing toilets were keeping me awake," Robin protested.

Gene rolled his eyes. This was not a good start to the day.

"Think it's time for you to get your backside out my office," he scowled.

Robin grabbed his coat and nodded.

"Sorry," he said as he walked to the door.

Gene folded his arms as he took a seat and stared at Robin while he disappeared from the office.

"Now I need the nerd repellent to disinfect me chair," he sighed.

~xXx~

Alex was looking unhappy and somewhat scared when Gene got home. He wondered what was going on at first until she pointed to a wall on which not only was the life-sized Lister poster back but it had been joined by ones of Rimmer, Cat and Kryten too.

"Gene, it's _back!"_ she cried, hiding behind him a little, "it was bad enough finding out you'd managed to sneak out before I woke up, then I came in here to drink my coffee and Lister was back… and this time he's brought friends…"

"Bloody _Batman_," cried Gene, "now he's given up his season ticket to Heartbeat City his flat's decided to throw him a welcome party!" He shuddered as he felt sure Lister was trying to outstare him and – despite him being a poster and therefore guaranteed to win - Gene was tempted to take him up on the challenge. He shook his head a little. The flat was definitely sculpted around Robin. Shifting out his clothes and geeky posters didn't change that. His heart was heavy admitting it but it wasn't his and Alex's home any more.

"Why are they staring at me like that?" Alex demanded.

"They've been stuck in space for three million years, if _you_ turned up on their bloody ship I can _guarantee_ they wouldn't take their eyes off you," Gene told her.

Alex frowned and followed as Gene started to walk to the kitchen.

"And where have _you_ been anyway?" she asked.

"Had to pick up a few things," Gene told her, "not planning to spend the day stuck in me office when I could be saving you from geek posters." He handed her the sheets of paper he'd taken from work. "Got some interesting news for you though."

"Does it involve finding a way to stop unwanted posters from rematerializing?"

"No, it involves how to stop the devil _de_materialising."

That made Alex stop and listen.

"What?" she asked quietly.

"DCI Jim Keats is apparently still in hospital," Gene told her, "no disappearing, no vanishing, no fading away to thin air – he's still strapped to 'is bed, gnashing his teeth and spitting fury."

"Are you sure?" Alex scanned the sheet for information, "nothing's ever held him before. What's different about these restraints?"

"Not much," said Gene, "I don't think it's down to them. Think it's down to the monster with the twisted head who's brain has done a loop-de-loop so many times that he's gone mad enough to stop himself from being able to escape."

"Is that possible?"

"You didn't see him, Bols," Gene rubbed his temples as he thought about it, "He hadn't just lost the plot, he'd written a whole new one. He'd flipped. He couldn't control his own drool let alone organise a mass limb meltdown."

"He could just be biding his time," Alex said warily, "staying put so that no one can try to get to him. Perhaps to add credibility if he tries to plead insanity when he goes to trial."

"No, believe me," Gene told her, "he's not staying of his own free will. Geoff's on bed baths - I checked."

Alex was truly shocked. Keats could pull off a disappearing act whenever he damn well liked, but somehow things were different this time. With the energy twisting him more deeply all the time he was trapped in his bed and trapped by humanly restraints.

"Couldn't happen to a nicer person," she said firmly.

Gene folded away the papers. He agreed with Alex. If anyone deserved to be stuck in a place he didn't want to be it was Keats. But he couldn't shake the worry that nothing was ever that simple.

~xXx~

_#...I don't expect my love affairs to last for long_

_Never fool myself that my dreams will come true_

_Being used to trouble I anticipate it_

_But all the same I hate it, wouldn't you?_

_So what happens now?_

_Another suitcase in another hall_

_So what happens now?_

_Take your picture off another wall_

_Where am I going to?_

_You'll get by, you always have before_

_Where am I going to?_

_Time and time again I've said that I don't care_

_That I'm immune to gloom, that I'm hard through and through_

_But every time it matters all my words desert me_

_So anyone can hurt me, and they do_

_So what happens now?_

_Another suitcase in another hall_

_So what happens now?_

_Take your picture off another wall_

_Where am I going to?_

_You'll get by, you always have before_

_Where am I going to?_

_Call in three months' time and I'll be fine, I know_

_Well maybe not that fine, but I'll survive anyhow_

_I won't recall the names and places of each sad occasion_

_But that's no consolation here and now._

_So what happens now?_

_Another suitcase in another hall_

_So what happens now?_

_Take your picture off another wall_

_Where am I going to?_

_You'll get by, you always have before_

_Where am I going to?_

_Don't ask anymore…#_

_~ Another Suitcase In Another Hall - Madonna_


	34. Chapter 32: Dog Train

_**A/N: Sorry for the extra updates, when things are on my mind I write – especially when stupid summer means stupid early sunrise and that means the second youngest member of the family (not counting guinea pigs!) getting up at 5 a.m. - ugh! So I've gotten ahead and the last chapter will be posted tonight with the epilogue tomorrow :)**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter Thirty Two**

Gene turned the box around in his fingers. How the hell was he going to do this? How was he going to do this right? His first proposal hadn't gone quite the way he'd planned. Falling down a hole at the start of it wasn't really part of his original vision.

This wasn't quite the same of course. Alex had already said yes before but. of course, back then there was always the possibility that she was going to end up back in the real world. He couldn't guarantee ever being able to complete the promise he made with the ring. Things were different now. She'd made the most enormous sacrifices to get home to him and to stay with him. He had to make this special.

So much had happened since the start of their engagement. The world had changed and shifted in myriad ways, and so had he and Alex. This was a different ring for a different promise between two people who now lived a very different life..

He pocketed the ring and got to his feet.

"_Earth to Alex,"_ he called out, "_do you read me, Alex Drake?"_

"_I'm in the bath,"_ Alex's voice called back.

The bath? _Bollocks_ – he was going to miss that.

"Got to go out for a while," he called to her.

"_I was hoping… you might join me?"_

Alex's voice seemed strangely nervous and Gene didn't know why. She'd never been shy about coaxing him into the soapy water before. He cursed himself over and over for picking the wrong moment to head out but this was one of those 'now or never' things.

"Believe me, Drakey, I'd jump in head-first with me clothes on if I could, but there's something I have to do. Keep the water warm for me. Be back as soon as damn-well possible."

With that he hurried out. The sooner he went, the sooner he could get back and hopefully there would still be an Alex in the tub.

~xXx~

"Eddie, listen, " Simon put his head in his hands, "I've seen her hit you three times already and she's only been here two days,. Give it up. She's not interested."

"But sir, she's _new_, she needs someone to show her around –" Eddie protested, still salivating slightly at the thought of the sexy new recruit he'd been trying to pursue.

"Yeah, well," Simon began, "I think you killed that option dead the moment you said to her, '_which one do you want to explore first – the station or my trousers?'"_

Gene walked in on the end of the conversation and immediately regretted it.

"The exploration of trousers is off-limits in this place," he declared, eying Eddie warily, "especially if this has anything to do with why one of my new recruits is currently sitting in CID with a whistle round her neck to call for help if _someone_ tries to get fruity."

Eddie hung his head.

"Sorry, guv," he said.

"This might be a good time for lattes," Gene suggested.

"Yes, guv. Sorry guv."

Gene waited until he'd left before he turned back to Simon.

"You got five minutes?" he asked.

Simon sighed.

"I really need to organise the last of the toastercide reports," he said, "especially now that… cocky four slice moron has drawn up a peace treaty to call for violence-free toasting twixt man and machine."

Gene didn't ask.

"It's not a question, Shoebury. You've got five minutes."

He started to walk out of the office, leaving Simon to roll his eyes and get to his feet.

"It's a world full of free choice, isn't it?" he mumbled, following Gene to CID.

They walked to his office where Gene drew the blinds, then laid a large fabric item in a bag across his desk and walked to the filing cabinet to find his scotch.

"What's that?" Simon frowned curiously at the item on the desk.

"Just some things I got out of storage," said Gene. Simon was hoping for a more in-depth explanation than that and began to unzip the storage bag for a better idea but Gene cut the attempt short with the slamming of a glass in front of him that almost crushed his fingers.

"Here," he said as he started to fill it up.

"What's this for?" Simon asked cautiously. There had to be an ulterior motive somewhere. It couldn't be as simple as gene offering him a drink.

"You might need it in a minute," Gene warned.

"Why? Simon asked suspiciously, "What's happened? Oh god, has Keats escaped?"

"For once, no."

"Layton?"

"No. he's still cuffed and swearing his head off in the cells."

"You've set up a meeting for me to go and issue the woman with the fat arse those bloody diamond studs?" Simon narrowed his eyes.

"Will you shut your cakehole and listen?" Gene demanded. He sat down opposite Simon with a glass of his own. It was full to the brim. Simon suspected that whatever Gene had to say it wasn't going to be an easy conversation.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I think," Gene began seriously, "We need to clear the air. About yer mother."

"Oh shit." Simon understood the presence of the scotch now and downed his in one.

"Careful,. Shoebury," Gene cried in alarm, "that's a decent bloody bottle! That's not all going down your scrawny neck."

"Sorry," Simon wiped his mouth, "I was trying to get a head start."

"A fuzzy head, more like, Gene told him, "I want you coherent for this, don't want to have to go repeating meself later."

Simon stared at the empty glass in front of him; a million Genes reflected in the cut glass patterns.

"I don't think we're ready for this conversation," he said.

"Well _I_ do," said Gene, "bloody hell, if the last few days have taught me anything it's that you never know when it's going to be too late."

"I don't mind it being too late for _this_ conversation, honestly," Simon said quickly, holding up his palms.

"Shut up, Simon," Gene told him. He sighed as he sipped his scotch. "Are you listening?"

"Don't think I've got much choice, have I?" Simon mumbled.

Gene looked at him seriously, his expression serious and uncomfortable. _Shit_, it wasn't a conversation he wanted to have any more than _Simon_ did but he wanted to get the air cleared as much as he could.

"We can't carry on ignoring the bloody thing," Gene told him.

"Works for me," said Simon.

"I'm fed up of walking on eggshells," said Gene, "I've spent my whole life burying me head in the sand. I did it with everything, even what the world was for. Even that I was _dead_, Simon. I buried me head in the sand about Alex too, all those years when I was scared out of me size elevens about losing her, always wondering when she was going to wake up – we never got over ourselves and talked about it. I wasted years. We both did. Got a chance to make up for it now and start again, but I don't want to make the same mistake here." He looked at Simon. "It shouldn't be possible. It seems like the most ludicrous thing this side of Live TV's programme schedule. But somehow it's a fact. You're my son."

Simon looked down. It was the first time Gene had said it so bluntly. hearing it shocked him, it stirred the feelings of anger and devastation up again inside of him. He breathed in deeply and wished he hadn't downed that drink quite so soon because he could have really done with it about then.

"I know," his voice was strained. He'd tried very hard to push the truth from his mind or to deny it, finding ways to convince himself it wasn't true. But when it came down to it every time he looked Gene in the eye he could see himself reflected within it now. He didn't like to admit the resemblances but they were there, and not just the physical ones either.

"I wish I'd known twenty years ago when I let the snake out the tank for the night, not twenty years down the line." Gene told him. He sighed. "Stupid poxy worlds and time bollocks, it happened twenty years ago but you're thirty something years old. Where's the sense in that?"

Simon shook his head.

"If you _had_ known, what would have changed?" he said, feeling a little lost, "I wasn't born in this world, even if I was conceived in it. Some kind of freaky crap must have happened… the two worlds were just running too close that night… and even if my mum had wanted to tell you she'd never have been able to trace you." he froze and a frown came onto his face. _Had_ she ever tried to trace Gene? There was no way to know.

"I'm not saying that if I'd known things would have been any different… Simon, it's clear yer mum and yer old man were happy, you told me yerself they stayed together and worked it thorough, so it's not like I was going to blunder into yer lives and stick a flag in you to claim me territory. But I still wish I'd known."

"I wish I'd _never_ found out," Simon said honestly, "I miss what we were." He closed his eyes for a moment, "It took us a long time to become friends. I resent the fact that it was all for nothing."

"Was it?" Gene asked.

"_Wasn't_ it?"

"Shoebury, I'm not playing the questions game, this isn't _Whose Line Is It Anyway?"_ Gene told him, "listen to me – if you've got half me DNA there's nothing I can do about that but I'm not your 'dad'. Your dad is the man buying a bloody eighteen year old version of you all the X-Files merchandise he can find for yer birthday. Your dad is the man I saw in that family album of yours chasing yer sister into the sea and failing to start a barbecue."

"So who are you?" Simon asked. It was a genuine question. He couldn't work out how he and Gene were ever supposed to be friends again now they'd found out something that changed their lives so significantly.

"I'm the idiot you dragged out of the pub, the one you plucked out of the pot plants, the one who's flipping Christmas you gate-crashed two years ago." Gene sighed, "I don't know about yer genetic make-up but I know that we found a bloody decent middle ground even though we got off to a shakier start than Layton going off the drugs." He hoped Simon would reply but he was still staring at him, waiting to see what he was going to say. "Don't make me spell it out, Shoebury, the weedy _feeling_ malarkey isn't for me." He breathed out heavily through his nose, sounding a little like an angry rhinoceros, "Fifteen years without a friend is a long time, Simon."

Simon looked down and nodded slowly. He knew what Gene was saying.

"I don't want you to try making up for lost time or changing into some kind of father figure I don't need," he said.

"Not that I was going to _do_ that," Gene pointed out.

"But I wish I could stop feeling so," Simon's voice took on a dark edge, "_bloody angry_ about it. About having to live with the image of you_... bonking_ my mother for the rest of my life," he spat the words like they had a bitter taste, "about what my _dad_ had to go through when he found out, about the memory of my mum being ruined forever, and _you_ – I _respected_ you, I looked up to you. For all your flaws and the insults and the filing cabinet technique, you just seemed to be a bloody decent man and I thought I could learn a lot from you. And then I find out you shagged a married woman and, oh yeah, she happened to be my _mother."_

Gene stared at Simon. He didn't look down or look away. He didn't show any weakness, he just stared him right in the eye.

"You remember another tape, Shoebury?" he asked. He saw Simon staring at him, "another present from Jimbo, a lovely little piece of film from the late seventies with me in the starring role and a young homosexual gentleman as the supporting cast." He saw Simon look away. "I was level with you. Simon. I told you I'd changed and you made a decision to get to know the man I'd become, not to hold then man I was _then_ against me. "

"I know," Simon said quietly.

"How about making the same decision now?" Gene asked. Simon looked back at him cautiously. "You saw me making a –" he hesitated, not wanting to say 'mistake' – he knew labelling Mrs Shoebury as such wouldn't earn him any brownie points – "a bad decision. An error of judgement. And you know that you couldn't hold me to task for the things I'd done in the past when I'd learned from that and changed. I can't take back what I did. But I learned from it and it's not something I ever did again."

Simon stared at Gene. He couldn't make any promises. He couldn't say for certain that he could block it out of his mind or move on, but he would try.

"Alright," he said quietly.

"I'm not a bleedin' idiot, Simon," Gene told him, "things won't change overnight. But I don't want to be at war with you."

"No," Simon said quietly, "me neither."

Gene nodded slowly.

"And if you think," he began, "that you can ever get the image of my allegedly hairy backside out yer thinkpan then I've got something to ask you."

"Oh Gene, no, I'm _not_ giving you a free toaster," Simon sighed, "I know people keep sending them to my office, but the paperwork –"

"Shut up, Shoebury, it's got nothing to do with toasters" Gene told him. He gave him a serious look. "It's about the round object of _finger-wear_ you helped me buy yesterday." He looked extremely awkward and uncomfortable as he cleared his throat. "At some point in the future I'm going to need to get a second round object of finger-wear to join the first."

"Oh no, Gene, I'm not coming with you again," Simon began to push his chair backward, "I've had enough of helping you to buy jewellery. I've _never_ been so humiliated in my _life."_

"First of all, I find that hard to believe when you've spent half yer time in this world wearing _that jumper_, Gene began, "and second, that wasn't what I meant. He hesitated, unsure how to ask. "I'm going to need someone to look after it for me. The ring. On the day." He stared at Simon waiting for him to cotton on so that he wouldn't have to spell it out but Simon just stared back blankly. "Do you really not get what I'm tryig to ask here?" he cried.

"Well, no! You're talking in _riddles!"_

"I want you to be my bloody best _man_, you idiotic, rainbow-coloured geek of the year," Gene yelled.

"Oh," Simon froze, _"ohhh…."_ He looked at Gene incredulously. "You're – are you being _serious?"_

"If not then this is the most painfully drawn out and humiliating joke I've ever been a part of," Gene huffed, folding his arms.

Simon's face was a picture; a mix of disbelief, flattery and downright suspicion was spread across his expression.

"You seriously want me to be your best man?" he asked, bewildered by the turn of events.

"I did, I'm changing me bloody mind now though so you'd better say yes before I take the offer off the table."

"Yes," Simon said quickly, "I mean, thank you –"

"You think you'll be able to look me in the eye by then?"

Simon felt a stab of sadness as he saw the question was genuine. He honestly and truly wished that the truth had never come out. His friendship with Gene had become sturdy and solid and the facts as they'd emerged had shaken its foundations. But this time Simon had listened to Gene's words as he tried to explain things to him a little better, and finally he could see a little light at the end of the tunnel for them.

"I'll do my best," he said seriously.

"Good," said gene, "then ;et me give you yer first best man duty."

Simon frowned.

"Already?" he asked, "you've not even given her the ring yet."

"Exactly," said Gene, "you get the lucky job of plying me with alcohol until I get the bloody courage to ask her again."

Simon closed his eyes and sighed.

"Oh _god,"_ he groaned, "it's like history repeating…"

Maybe it was. There were a lot of parallels. But there were a lot of differences too. Gene knew that he and Alex were stronger than ever – and he hoped that when a little of the dust had settled then his friendship with Simon would be too. It played on his mind that Keats was still looming large, and although the leather restraints were holding him for now he hesitated to imagine they would keep him in one place for long. One day he'd get that call and know the beast had vanished again, and on that day they would all have to be at their strongest.

Gene knew they'd get there. They had to. Because whatever energy Keats was leeching from them, their combined determination wouldn't let him get the better of them. Keats could never win.

_~xXx~_

_#...Well this is murder_

_On the dog train_

_When all the brakes have failed_

_And I'm going down hill_

_And if you see me wave_

_I'm only saying bye bye_

_There's not a single tear_

_Here in my eyes_

_And if you've heard this before_

_I'm gonna say it again_

_Life was easier when_

_I didn't have a clue_

_Because this is murder_

_I'm getting dog tired_

_Let's make the world_

_Brand new_

_How about you…#_

_~ Dog Train – The Levellers_


	35. Chapter 33: Perfect Day

**Chapter Thirty Three**

Alright, something weird was afoot.

Gene had been in and out all day. He always had a reason or an excuse to disappear. Some of them were more realistic than others – the ones about posting something, getting some milk and threatening Robin that if he didn't remove his Red Dwarf posters within the next few hours they would be served to him for lunch the next day all seemed valid and reasonable. The ones about buying fluffy towels and taking Geoff a fruit basket seemed less so. But after Gene made his eight trip out of the day she started to become increasingly frustrated and suspicious.

"Gene, if I hear that door go –" she began as she suspected he was about to make another exit, but it was too late – he'd already gone. She gave a groan of frustration and stomped out of the bedroom. Why did he keep sending her to lie down anyway?

She scanned the lounge with a suspicious stare. Nothing seemed amiss at first. She suddenly noticed the table had been moved and some half-hidden flowers were peering out from beneath it, and she could smell some kind of food scent wafting from the kitchen. With a frown she went to investigate and found a bag of take-away cartons that she assumed to contain Chinese hidden very poorly behind a radio.

"What the hell is that man playing at?" she frowned as she put her hands on her hips. Before she could even begin to figure it out she heard the sound of the letterbox rattling and made her way to the hall to find a yellow post-it note through the door. She picked it up and frowned.

'_Wear this',_ it said.

"Wear what?" She cried out loud, "the _post-it?"_ That wasn't going to cover _anything_. Well, not very much, anyway. Exactly which part of the body was she supposed to wear it _on?_ With a growl of frustration she scrunched up the post-it and began to walk away but the letterbox rattled again behind her and she turned around to find another note through the door. What was it, a matching pair? She quickly scooped it up.

'_Bugger, forgot to leave the clothes,'_ it said, '_they're outside the door'._

She opened the front door in the hope of catching Gene still outside but he'd already disappeared. All she found was a pile of folded clothes on the floor which she brought inside. She frowned at them – it was true that she probably needed some clothes since she'd been wearing pretty much the same ones since she'd come back but she didn't understand what was going on. She unfolded the items in the pile. Alright, this was getting stranger. They were ones she hadn't worn them for a long time. In fact, it had been over a year, on one particular night. She hesitated and bit her lip. She remembered it well, the night that Gene proposed; awkwardly, covered with mud, but absolutely _perfectly_. She frowned at them.

"Alright, what's going on?" she asked aloud in case anyone replied. Of course, silence greeted her. Well what had she expected, a singing chorus of answers from the 2-dimensional Red Dwarf crew on the wall?

She started to get a little cross as the letterbox went for a third time. She rushed to the hall and opened the door, yelling;

"_Gene, what are you_ –" but before she could finish that sentence she realised that all she could even see of Gene was a disappearing leg as he left at speed.

She folded her arms and stared into the empty space where he'd disappeared a moment before. _Now_ what? She remembered hearing the letterbox go and realised she hadn't checked it yet. With a sigh she closed the door and found a third post-it through the letterbox.

'_Be ready by nine,'_ it said.

"Be ready… _how_… exactly?" she demanded to the empty flat. Aside from wearing the outfit what else was she supposed to do? redecorate? Prepare for battle? It made no sense.

She decided to start with what she knew. She changed into the outfit Gene had left her and quickly did her hair and make-up. She shook her head slightly as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She had to do something with that hair. She had more or less left it alone back in 2012 because she wasn't intending on sticking around but she hadn't realised her body would be heading back to 2012 with her. What was _'in'_ in 1997 anyway? Whose style was popular? Hmm, maybe she'd go for a Posh Spice look, she decided.

There was a knock at the door. Well, that was weird for a start. If that was Gene then he surely had his key to have let himself in the downstairs door. Why was he knocking? Feeling even more bewildered she walked brusquely to the hall, checking her reflection along the way. She opened the door and found Gene standing outside. He wasn't looking the happiest she had ever seen him. There were leaves in his hair and twigs sticking out of the pocket of his suit; a familiar suit that brought back a lot of memories.

"Gene, I…" Alex frowned as she studied the state of him, "what's going on?"

Gene stomped in, picking leaves out of his hair.

"I was so busy trying not to fall down 'oles that I didn't notice the ruddy big bush and fell in head-first," he mumbled.

Alex tried very hard not to laugh but it was difficult when faced with a mix of that expression on Gene's face and half the foliage of Fenchurch in his hair.

"I'm… I'm feeling a little confused," Alex admitted, "I'm not sure what's going on."

"Neither am I since I had to pluck a bloody birds' nest out me jacket," mumbled Gene. He sighed and looked at Alex in all seriousness as they walked into the lounge. "You're looking as classy as always, Bolly," he told her.

"I might look classier if I didn't have a frown of confusion on my face," Alex pointed out.

Gene reached behind the sofa and pulled out a bottle of wine and two glassed he'd planted there earlier. Alex frowned and rubbed her forehead. What the hell was he doing? Turning into some kind of alcohol-based magician? She was relieved when he poured her a large glass – she had a feeling she'd need that.

"Alright," she said, "I give up, Gene. I've been trying to work out for the last hour what's going on and I've failed. I am a _hopeless_ detective. Fire me now and take away my warrant card."

"Well, I would but then I'd have to take away your cuffs as well and I was hoping you might use those later on," Gene commented.

"Seriously, gene, what's going on?" Alex asked. This time her voice was different. She seemed almost anxious. Gene knew he had been secretive and some of his behaviour had been usual – he supposed it was time to put them _both_ out of their misery, because he was only making himself more nervous as time went on.

"Alright, Bolly, alright," he said as he put his wine down and sank onto the couch, "I'll do my best here, but I'll warn you Shoebury's been a total tight-arse and hasn't supplied me with enough spirits to stop me hands shaking."

"Why do you need Simon to give you spirits?" frowned Alex, "don't you have a perfectly good bottle of scotch in your office?"

Gene hesitated.

"That's not the point," he said.

Alex sat down beside him, sipping her wine. She stood the glass beside his and turned to him.

"Well?" she asked quietly.

Gene looked at her then down at her hands. God, he hated this part. He'd made enough of a prat of himself the first time.

"You know what, Lady B?" he said quite suddenly, "We're the lucky ones.

Ale starred, waiting for him to continue. She bit her lip as he fell silent.

"What do you mean, Gene?" she asked.

Gene shook his head slowly.

"Look at everyone else. Bunch of miserable wankers filling the air with storm clouds. But they're not to blame. Not when you look at what they've had to live with." He sighed, "And I don't just mean the sprouts in the canteen." he looked back at her. "I am a jammy sod. First I manage to get the classiest DI in London joining me team. Then I somehow manage to end up getting into yer posh kecks on yer pink girly couch. And now, sixteen years after you turned up in a skirt as short as Evan's list of favourite razors you're still here. He sighed, "well, you're _back_ here." He nodded to her. "Odds were against us, Bolly. We beat every last one of them. I think I'll buy a lottery ticket next week."

"Where's all this coming from?" Alex's brow furrowed. This wasn't like Gene.

"I'm a procrastinator, Drakey, always have been," Gene told her, "I put things off 'til the last minute, or until it's too late. Problem was, some things I should _never_ have put off. Waited too long with you and you bloody vanished. It's not like getting a late fine for a bloody library book."

"Are you comparing me to a library book?" frowned Alex.

"Well, I did stamp yer bum," Gene reminded her.

Alex sighed. That was true.

"What are you trying to tell me, Gene?" she demanded.

Gene wasn't even sure. He was starting to get himself confused now.

"I've had a wakeup call," Gene told her, "I lost you. Thought it was for good. Last nine months were bloody awful, it felt like going on holiday with Geoff and a suitcase full of loofahs that all play Wham medleys when you dunk them in water. I never want to go through that again."

"And you won't," Alex said quietly,"I'm here for good now."

"I know," Gene nodded, "I know." He grunted, "Shouldn't have taken me this long to get off me backside and do things right, but like I said to Simon earlier I'm trying to learn from my mistakes." He paused. "Like the one about falling down a hole."

"Was the shrubbery better or worse than the hole?" Alex asked.

"That's beside the point," said Gene.

"I was just curious."

"I need to stop thinking about bushes and holes, it's leading me in a different direction," Gene mumbled. He looked at her seriously. "You listen to me, Bolly," he said, "you're stuck with me now. And you're going to be stuck with me for a long time. Sam…. When I talked to him yesterday he was making noises about me hanging up me boots, but not for a long time yet. And in this place, a long time could be years or it could be decades, I don't know. You'll be sick of the sight of me."

"Never going to happen," Alex told him.

"Or the smell of me."

"Possible, if you don't change your socks," Alex said with a half-smile. She felt her heart starting to speed up. There was a growing sense of anticipation although she wasn't completely sure where Gene's words were heading.

"And since you're going to be stuck with me for the rest of yer life," Gene began, "we might as well make it official."

"I thought we already did that," Alex said quietly.

"_Did,"_ Gene repeated pointedly. He lifted her hand and turned it over and over. "No ring now."

Alex looked down with a heavy heart.

"I know," she whispered, "I'm sorry, Gene. When I woke up and my ring wasn't there I felt like I'd lost my last connection with you. And when I came back, I thought my ring might too, but –"

"Doesn't matter," Gene told her, shaking his head as he stared at her hand, "It doesn't matter. You see, Bols, this is a new era for me and you. A fresh start. Things are going to be different now." He took a deep breath. He wished he didn't still find this so difficult. It wasn't as though he hadn't been practicing a bit with the old _feelings_ thing lately, but when it came down to it they were still difficult for him to express. "Things have changed. This _world_ is changing. _We've_ bloody changed an' all. Go through months like that, kept apart like a couple of bloody fighting mice put in separate cages – makes you see things more clearly."

"It does," Alex whispered, her eyes fixed upon him.

"So _this_ time," Gene reached into his pocket, "we're going to do things differently."

"Shit," Alex whispered before she could stop herself. She realised how rude that sounded and slapped her hand over her mouth. She didn't mean it like that – she didn't mean it in a bad way – "Sorry, I… I wasn't expecting…" she focused on the box that Gene fished from his pocket, "is that what I think it is?"

"I'm still not getting down on one knee," he told her.

Those were the words that did it. Any doubt about Gene's elaborate recreation slipped from her mind. She knew exactly what was coming up as she let out a half-gasp, half-sob that she tried very hard to pull back. She knew she wasn't in the best frame of mind for keeping herself together, her emotions were still all over the place after her traumatic return. She bit down on her lip, torn between giving into the tears that had started to prick her eyes and the broad smile of elation that was threatening to take over her face.

"Are you serious?" she whispered. She knew full well he was, she just needed to say something.

"Deadly," said Gene. He flipped the box open and looked at the ring, then back at Alex. "Bit more bloody traditional, I know. But things are more traditional this time. Me fiancée isn't lying in a hospital room fifteen years away from me. You won't be fading out and back. So this time, we'll do it properly." He swallowed and looked at her fingers as he found the right one and took the ring from the box. He tried to ignore the second gasped sob he heard from her. He didn't want her emotions to set him off because he was coming dangerously close to _doing_ girly feelings right then. "So," he cleared his throat gruffly, "Alexandra _Bollinger-Knickers_ Drake, will you do me the honour –" he paused and shook his head, "I sound like an absolute arse-faced twat."

"No, no you don't," Alex's tears mixed with a giggle, "please, Gene, don't stop there." He looked up at her as the ring hovered over the end of her finger. There were tears falling down her cheeks but a smile as warm and bright as he had ever seen. _"Please?"_

Gene sighed.

"I think I just posted me credibility to Outer Mongolia," he mumbled.

"_Please?"_ Alex raised her eyebrow and looked at him hopefully. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"Alright," he agreed, "alright. Will you do me the dubious honour of being my wife?"

"You already know my answer," Alex whisper.

"I had to ask again so you've got to bloody accept again," Gene admonished her, "spit it out, woman, yes or no?"

"Yes," Alex's smile grew, "Of course it's a bloody yes!"

"I should hope so, sodding price tag on this thi-" Gene began, cut off by the pair of lips firmly pressed against his. He heard her give a needful sigh as she slipped her tongue into his mouth and gripped the back of his head firmly with her hands. He reached around her and pulled her closer, knowing that his body was giving her a very obvious clue to exactly what he had on his mind. He began to push her downward; lowering her gently across the couch, barely breaking the kiss for a moment as though her lips were his life support and he needed to keep that kiss going to breathe.

He felt the ring on her finger snag a little in his hair as she ran her fingers through it, the symbol that this time things would be different, the promise that they were never going to be pulled apart again.

He began to slip one hand inside her top but she seemed to freeze and a moment later she pushed him back unexpectedly.

"Gene, wait," she said quickly.

He looked at her in alarm, worried by her sudden need to push him away,

"What? What did I do?" he cried, "why've you withdrawn my sodding membership to the Alex Appreciation Society?

Alex hesitated and looked sat him nervously.

"There's something I need to show you," she said quietly, "there's something you need to see."

She pushed him gently back upright before sitting up herself, then she looked him in the eye and bit her lip while she slowly unfastened the bottom buttons of her top. She lifted the material up a little and pulled down her skirt. The soft skin shown between them bore a mark that Gene had never seen before. Where a wound from his own bullet had once stood here was now a little circle drawn in pink. One tiny letter sat in its centre – '_G'._

"This, uh," he cleared his throat gruffly as he stared at her skin, "this wasn't here last time I looked."

Alex looked at him anxiously.

"That was sort of the point of stopping you," she said, just a little exasperatedly, "I didn't want you to just… _find_ it."

Gene reached out and skimmed his fingers across the surface of the tattoo. The tiniest difference in skin tone where the ink lay beneath her skin was a world apart from the feeling of the scar.

"You appear to have a tattoo," he said.

"Kim's handiwork," Alex said quietly.

"Is there anyone Stringer hasn't inked?" Gene commented. He hesitated as he ran his fingers back and forth. It made him feel strange deep inside with a churning of his stomach as he realised that the scar had gone foe good. "And the _G?"_ he asked. He already knew, but he wanted to hear her say it.

"Was so you would be with me over there," Alex said quietly.

Gene swallowed as he stared at the tattoo. Slowly his eyes rose to meet hers.

"No more scar," he said quietly.

Alex smiled, a little sadly.

"No," she whispered, "no more scar." She paused as she lowered her top again. "Maybe because this time around," she sighed, "this time, there'll be no pain. Just a happy future."

"You telling me _that_ wasn't painful?" he jabbed at her stomach around the area of her tattoo.

"Not as much as I thought," Alex smiled nervously.

Gene nodded slowly.

"Maybe you're right," he said. He looked her in the eye. "I meant what said. Things will be different this time. Fresh start." his eyes scanned the flat and he sighed. "We've had good times here, but it's not our place any more."

Alex's expression saddened a little.

"No," she said, "it's not."

"We should have to spend half our time peeling various nerdery from the walls," said Gene, "and it sounds like Batman needs his own space. He's got enough to deal with without adding Simon's sofa to his problems."

Alex nodded. She gave Gene a smile that was filled with nostalgia. She'd lived there for a long time and would be sad to move on but Gene was right – it was time for new beginnings all round. A new home was a good place to start.

"Sounds like a very good idea," she said seriously.

"Things are going to be different from now on," Gene told her, "this world's changing. So are we, Lady B. So are we."

Gene was right. They'd both changed. So had their relationship. No longer was the storm cloud of _Alex Drake Two Thousand and Bollocks_ hanging over them. Gene no longer had to worry about losing her and Alex no longer had to worry about losing her grip on the world. They were freer now; they could focus on the important things – each other, their work, their friends and keeping the world safe from bespectacled devils.

They knew life wasn't always going to be easy but brighter times were coming, they were both certain of that. They'd had as much heartache and trauma as anyone could take. Clear skies and sunshine were on the horizon and they knew it was no more than they deserved.

Thanks to Alex's death, they could truly start to live.

**~xXx~ The End ~xXx~**

**(Epilogue up tomorrow!)**

_#…Just a perfect day,_

_Drink Sangria in the park,_

_And then later, when it gets dark,_

_We go home._

_Just a perfect day,_

_Feed animals in the zoo_

_Then later, a movie, too,_

_And then home._

_Oh it's such a perfect day,_

_I'm glad I spent it with you._

_Oh such a perfect day,_

_You just keep me hanging on,_

_You just keep me hanging on._

_Just a perfect day,_

_Problems all left alone,_

_Weekenders on our own._

_It's such fun._

_Just a perfect day,_

_You made me forget myself._

_I thought I was someone else,_

_Someone good._

_Oh it's such a perfect day,_

_I'm glad I spent it with you._

_Oh such a perfect day,_

_You just keep me hanging on,_

_You just keep me hanging on._

_You're going to reap just what you sow,_

_You're going to reap just what you sow,_

_You're going to reap just what you sow,_

_You're going to reap just what you sow...#_

_~ Perfect Day – Lou Reed (here referenced for 1997 BBC promo version! Oh my, the feels, the memories!)_

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: I really can't thank you enough for following this story, especially those of you who have taken time to review and to let me know your thoughts. This story is always going to be special to me for Kimberley's arrival midway through. I'll be posting up the epilogue tomorrow - 80% sickly sweet and, uh, 20% heartbreakingly soul-destroying. I apparently can't do 100% fluff! :P **_


	36. Epilogue: SemiCharmed Life

**Epilogue**

**February 27****th**** 1997**

There it was; a blue blob right on the end of his nose.

"Oh, come here," sighed Alex as she aimed a rag at the stain and started to rub it.

"I feel like I'm sprouting a smurf from me nasal cavity," Gene huffed as she rubbed a little harder.

"How on earth did you manage to get paint there?" she admonished.

"It's a rare talent," said Gene.

"It's not even the colour we're painting the _room!"_

"It's an _exceptionally_ rare talent," Gene told her.

Gene had been true to his word. Since his proposal a month and a half earlier he and Alex had started a new phase of their relationship and grasped a fresh start for themselves. House hunting had proven easier than it initially seemed when a perfect property appeared within their price range, even though it was larger than they'd been looking for. A careful quest to research the property revealed that Geoff had once lived there and the remains of the loofahs had been putting off potential buyers so they were able to get it for a radically knocked down price.

The sale had gone through quickly and they'd been able to move in the week before, leaving Robin free to get off Simon's sofa and enjoy his own space at last. In a wholly unprecedented move Gene and Alex took the unusual step of using their holiday time to actually take a week off work to begin redecorating. Unfortunately things were not going quite to plan.

"_Oh,"_ Alex groaned, "It's not coming off. You're going to have to finish this yourself. _Here."_ She handed him the rag and wiped her hands on a dust sheet. "I don't have time to sit rubbing white spirit on your nose all day. I'm going to be late for my appointment." She grabbed her bag ad began to rummage around inside it.

"You gripped with a heart-stopping sense of fear yet Bols? Gene asked.

"Yes Gene, I'm clearly quaking in my boots," she said in the calmest voice possible. Her expression turned a little sad. "I wish Kim was doing it for me."

She fished a sheet of paper from her bag and carefully unfolded it, a simple but beautiful design staring back at her.

"I know," Gene said quietly. He knew that Alex was missing her friend terribly and had worried endlessly about how she was recovering from her injuries and terrible loss. He wished there was a way to reassure her; a way to take a quick peak at the real world and make sure she was alright. He decided to try taking Alex's mind off her. "At least you're going to have a Batman original."

"True," Alex smiled sadly.

After Gene's acceptance and – as it transpired – fondness for her tattoo Alex had given serious thought to getting another. As her first one had been her way of connecting her with Gene when she was back in the real world so she had wanted a design to remember those she'd left behind in 2012. When she discovered that Robin had designed one of his own tattoos she'd been incredibly surprised.

"_I had no idea you had artistic talent hidden away,"_ she'd told him.

"_Just a shame about my fear of paintbrushes,"_ he'd shuddered, "and phthalo blue"

Alex had decided not to ask. She had, however, asked him to do her a special favour and to design for her a tattoo. She stared at the finished design; the two interlinking dragons symbolising the two children on the other side of the line that she missed with all her heart. Her transition to a permanent life in Gene's world hadn't been all plain sailing. Her decision had been the right one for everyone but she had spent many nights crying for Molly and the baby daughter that's she had never even seen. Her tattoo was a way to keep them with her always.

"Are you sure you're alright with me having this done, Gene?" she asked a little nervously.

"It's not like I've objected to yer first one," Gene reminded her, knowing full well that he'd lavished the area with a great deal of attention on more than one occasion.

"That is true," Alex gave a nervous smile, "you do know it's permanent?"

"And so are you," Gene was happy to remind her, "now bugger off and get yer arse inked."

"I am _not_ having it tattooed on my bum," Alex told him haughtily, "I want to actually be able to sit down tonight." She had a sudden thought, "Oh, that reminds me, do you still want me to pick up a present for Simon?"

"If you're still in one piece," said Gene.

"What do you want me to get him?"

Gene supressed a smirk.

"A toaster," he said.

Alex frowned.

"You are a cruel, cruel man, Gene Hunt," she told him.

"And bloody proud of it," said Gene.

He watched her check her new haircut in the mirror and grasp her coat before she left the house, blowing a kiss as she disappeared out of the door. Gene turned his attention back to the paint roller in his hand and ignored the blob of blue on his nose that was making him go a little cross-eyed. He ran the roller across the tray to pick up more paint and turned back to the wall, covering it bit by bit with the bright, bold shade they'd chosen while VH1 played quietly on the portable TV in the corner of the room, sending out music to paint by.

"Not another bloody ballad," Gene mumbled as another song began, "Need some BeeGees or something, otherwise I'll still be painting this a week on Saturday."

He carried on coating the wall with colour and didn't notice the buzz of the channel changing at first. It wasn't until the loud, serious voice of the newsreader began to talk that he looked over.

"_And finally today,"_ the woman continued, _"a plaque has been placed in a memorial garden in Manchester to put a name to the unknown PC whose body was uncovered at Farringfield Green four years ago."_

The roller fell to the ground. It bounced an inch or so in the air, leaving splatters of green across the dust sheet draped across the carpet as a man fell to his knees beside it. Gene felt as though someone had gripped him by the heart. He stared at the screen, his mouth sudden; dry and his hands shaking visibly. He could hardly take in the words he'd heard spoken. Their meaning was almost too much for him to accept.

"_A campaign to help the young PC find his identity finally placed him as nineteen year old Gene Hunt who disappeared during his first week on the beat in nineteen fifty three. The campaign was led by jewellery chain owner Hayley Ford, a relative of the fallen constable. Her connection to the body uncovered by travellers in two thousand and eight was brought to her attention by Detective Inspector Alex Drake who died earlier this year. Her will requested her ashes to be scattered in the same memorial garden; a ceremony for which was carried out in February."_ Then newsreader bowed her head for a moment to both signify the story was over and to check her notes for the end of the bulletin but before she could say anything the TV fizzed and switched itself off.

Gene stared. The screen was blank and the speakers silent but the words played through and through his mind. He bowed his head for a few moments to pay his respects to the young man whose name now indicated where he lay. It felt like some other person, another lifetime away, but it meant more than he knew how to express.

"You did me proud, Bolly," he said quietly, "now bloody well rest in peace. Both of you."

~xXx~

Robin stood at the open wardrobe door and shook his head. He didn't remember the nineties being _this_ bad, he genuinely didn't. But faced with a wardrobe full of Britpop and boyband-inspired clothing he knew that whatever he wore was going to make him look like a twat.

"At this rate I'm going to be going to this bloody party in my uniform," he sighed, kicking the door shut and crashing out on his bed.

He stared around the bedroom so carefully moulded to his personality. It was spooky the way it had him pegged so perfectly. The walls were peppered with publicity photos from TV shows he loved while beside the combi TV in the corner were a stack of blank tapes for recording whatever came on. He was a bit of a tape hoarder and apparently the world knew. His eyes focused on a framed piece of art on the wall and immediately misted over. There as a lump in his throat that appeared every time he looked at it. It wasn't going anywhere; it was always there, waiting, bubbling under, about to bring a fresh flood of tears.

"how did it even get here?" he whispered as he stared at it, the piece of artwork that Kim had handed to him on Christmas morning; the piece bearing an amalgamation of his tattoos, the piece she'd worked on for weeks on the run up to the festive season. He couldn't understand its presence or how it made it across but he was forever grateful that it was there.

He'd found one or two other strange reminders of Kim about the premises too. Piles of tattoo magazines seemed somewhat out of place for him, and he wasn't sure how come such a strong presence of Kim had found its way there. He had stayed well away from the pile of magazines for now. They reminded him of her too much and he couldn't handle that yet.

It hadn't been an easy six weeks. He'd been up and down. There were two sides to Robin now; the _I'm Fine_ side that he displayed like a mask at work or when someone tried to confront him, and the Robin who collapsed quietly in private, crying silently in bed when no one was around to see. He woke up every morning with his heart broken all over again as he stared at the empty pillows beside him. Giving him a double bed when she wasn't there to share it with him was cruelty in the highest degree.

He found his new life a daily struggle in many ways, even aside form missing Kim so deeply that it hurt him physically to live without her. He wasn't enjoying his work – although the dogs were starting to actually sniff out more than smelly shoes his heart wasn't in it, nor did it survive the occasional conversation he overheard Shaz having with her colleagues about the lost love of her life. Then aside from his work issues things were still strained with Simon as the two of them struggled to adjust to life in each othr's presence again without a relationship being the foundation of their contact.

All he could do was take things day by day. Sometimes he might have one glass too many, or one meal too few but he wasn't self-destructing and he wasn't going to ether, because the strength that Kim had given to him meant too much to him to do that. He wasn't going to let her down by falling apart.

Reluctantly he got to his feet again and went back to the wardrobe. There had to be something in there that wouldn't make him look like everything that was wrong with the nineties.

"Come on," he mumbled as he rummaged through. A waistcoat he wouldn't have touched with a ten foot pole fell from its hanger and he cursed. The contents of the wardrobe were bad enough, he didn't want them in a bloody mess as well so he scooped down to pick it up from the floor and spotted something in the back of the wardrobe; a pair of black, patent, clunky knee-length boots with frankly terrifying heels.

"Must be Alex's," he frowned. He'd never seen her wearing anything quite like them but they certainly weren't his. He'd have to taken them round later.

He thought he heard someone knocking on the door. He frowned and made his way through the flat to answer it. As he opened it up he found himself surprised to see Simon standing outside, looking a little awkward.

"Hi," he frowned, "what are you doing here? I thought you'd be getting ready for tonight."

"I am," said Simon, "I was… I was just sorting some stuff out… tidying up for later… I came across these." He pulled from his pocket a brown envelope which he held toward Robin. "I thought… I thought maybe you'd like to keep them. I thought… thought _you_ should have them."

Robin took the envelope curiously and looked at it.

"What's in here?"he asked.

"It's nothing much," Simon said, not really wanting to go into detail, "just something I thought you'd appreciate more than me." He took a step back. "I'd better be off," he said, "I've got to go and pick up the drinks for later."

"Oh, Simon," Robin called him back, "I thought I'd better warn you… I've heard rumours Gene was plotting to find the _worst present ever_ for you."

"Now why am I not surprised?" Simon sighed. He gave Robin a nervous smile. "I'm just glad I've finally got someone on my side to fight back against the _we-age-differently-so-we-don't-have-birthdays_ crap."

"You've _got_ to have birthdays," Robin agreed, "and surely ones where you don't age are the best kind?"

Simon gave him a little smile before stepping back again.

"See you tonight?" he asked.

Robin nodded.

"See you later," he said quietly as he watched him leave. He looked down at the envelope in his hand as he closed the door. He couldn't for the life of him work out what Simon would be bringing him. The envelope wasn't sealed; the flap simply pressed inside to keep the contents safe, so he quickly slipped it out and pulled forth the contents. The moment he focused on them he felt his heart jump in his chest as a mix of strong emotion, love and devastation flooded his body. He had to move across to the couch and sit down quickly before his legs gave way.

In his hands he held a pile of photographs, clearly collected over several months and many different nights out. There was a common theme across them; the face that Robin knew best of all. A young Kim stared back from the glossy prints. While the image of her showed a woman several years younger than the one Robin's heart belonged to there was no mistaking her – the energy, the personality, the smile – the one that she stopped using when she awoke in 2003 until her relationship with Robin brought it back to her face.

It was strange to see her in the photographs, belonging squarely to the nineties. Robin gave a distant smile as he thought about the fact that _Kim_ had once been the one with a wardrobe full of clothes that she hadn't chosen herself too. Her blonde crop was present in the photos and although a few of her piercings were different and she was somewhat curvier there was no mistaking her.

He flicked through each one, watching a slow progression of her time in Gene's world; finding her way, growing, becoming stronger. He cursed himself as a tear dripped onto a picture and he wiped it away quickly. He missed her with every breath he took. Breathing never got any easier. But seeing her face, albeit from a different time, made him feel just a little closer to her.

"Thank you, Simon," he whispered to the empty flat. It was the most valuable gift anyone could have given him right then.

Slowly he stood up and continued to look through the photographs as he walked to his bedroom. He scowled as he found one of Kim with Shaz living it up at a nightclub and accidentally brutally destroyed it with a pair of scissors that he _definitely_ didn't use to hack Shaz out of the picture.

As he entered his room his eyes scanned the space. _There_. It was the perfect spot. He pulled out the best photograph, a close-up shot of Kim with a bright smile and such a vibrant sense of life about her, propped it up on the cabinet beside his bed and stared at it. He didn't dare look for long, or he knew he was going to start crying and he didn't want to head off to Simon's party with red eyes. Plus, he was wearing eyeliner and didn't want big black streaks to give it away.

He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes for a little while, playing through his mind a show reel of memories. While Kim might have been far away, she would never leave his heart or his mind.

~xXx~

Simon stumbled through the door with the heavy bags dragging him down. He dropped them to the floor as heavily as he dared without smashing the bottles within and shook his hands a little, trying to get the life back into them.

"Bloody hell," he mumbled. His wrists were practically dead now.

He looked around the lounge. It looked neat enough. He started to unpack some of the bottles and stood them on the coffee table beside the glasses he'd put out earlier. It was strange having the flat to himself, he'd been so used to having his sofa occupied by guests that he wasn't sure how to deal with living on his own. First Kim, then Gene, and then Robin – his sofa had been home to several guests in the short tine Simon had lived there.

There was a certain irony to the fact that it was now that Robin had joined the world permanently that Simon was the most alone that he'd ever been in one sense. He'd become used to company. Now the silence was filled only by the squeaking of guinea pigs.

"Sorry," he told them as he put the champagne in the fridge and heard them wheeking, "these are not for you."

He was still finding it hard to move on. _Baby steps_. He was taking it day by day. He hated to admit it but he couldn't give up completely on his dream that one day he and Robin would reunite. Love didn't fade that fast. But he was trying to keep to the right side of the line and not overstep the mark. He'd been on his best behaviour for some time and managed not to make any snippy comments about Kim, nor about the haunted look that Robin wore so often. He had to trust that Robin would come to him when he needed him and would wait for that day.

He was trying hard to live his own life. He'd made new friends, started to take his work more seriously and made headway in patching up a little of his friendship with Gene. That in itself was a long, slow process but they were getting there and Simon was even starting to look Gene in the eye again.

Time was moving on and things were changing. For the first time since he'd become a part of Gene's world he felt as though just maybe it was _his_ world too.

~xXx~

The sound of the waves lapping against the shore and the feel of the warm sun on her shoulders brought a smile to Victoria's face. She brushed her long red locks over her shoulder and stared out to sea. How had this become her life? From such darkness at the hands of Keats, her life had changed greatly. She knew who she had to thank for it too.

Her eyes focused on Nailer across the table as she took off her shades and gave him a smile. She had to laugh at the palm tree swimming trunks. She knew they were just an attempt to wind her up. She'd warned him against them so he bought seven pairs, _"one for each day of the week."_ He wasn't what she would have called a traditionally good catch – she knew there were murkier parts of his past that she was better off never knowing, he had the start of a set of love-handles spilling out above the palm-tree trunks and he chewed his toenails when he thought she wasn't looking.

But he'd rescued her. He'd taken her away from an existence of pain and torment and delivered her safely to a whole new life. Victoria wasn't interested in a relationship, she'd been quite adamant about that – she had never been one to seek romance and love. But Nailer had never backed down and he'd chipped away at her defences a little at a time until he found his way inside. There was something familiar about him that Victoria could never quite place. His face warmed her as he smiled in her direction.

"Water's nice today," he told her, "might go back in later. Not sure yet"

"What a hard life, full of difficult decisions," Victoria teased.

A waiter loomed into view with a bottle of champagne which he showed to each of them in turn before pouring them each a glass. Nailer waited until he left before leaning conspiratorially across the table and whispering,

"I don't know why they always have to bloody show us the bottle. I don't know the first thing about champagne. Not until I'm drinking it anyway. If he wants a critique from the bloody label he should look elsewhere."

Victoria smiled and put her shades back on as the sun started to sting her eyes a little. She took in a deep lungful of the ocean air and looked out at the boats sailing in the distance. Early retirement – as he called it – suited Nailer. There was a sense of relief about him. He'd been good at what he'd done for all those years but it was time to get out. He could see himself feeling trapped in that business for the rest of his life otherwise, constantly battling to stay on top because he just couldn't give in and let himself be beaten into second place.

"So, what's the plan?" she asked hi.

"Plan?" Nailer lifted his glass.

Victoria nodded.

"There's got to be a plan," she said, "we can't have come all the way out here for nothing?" she looked at him expectantly. After a few weeks of lying low and moving around from place to place to avoid detection he'd suddenly issued her with a passport in the name of Carrie Sanderson and a suitcase full of beachwear. The next thing she knew she was sitting by the shore, drinking champagne and staring at a man in palm-tree swimming trunks.

"There's no plan, Vicky," Nailer leaned back, enjoying the warm sunshine against his skin, "I'm retired."

"I know you," Victoria narrowed her eyes a little suspiciously, "I've read all your files. I've just spent six weeks in your company. I've seen the interview tapes. You always have something on the go." He shook his head. "Some deal? Some scheme? Investing in someone else's business?"

Nailer shook his head. He was tired. His heart wasn't in that work any more. He'd found passion for something different.

"The plan?" he said. His eyes scanned the beautiful surroundings, then settled back on her with a smile. "We just live."

Victoria stared at him, his genuine expression never failing to strike her as a world apart from the man with evil running through his veins.

"_We just live,"_ she whispered back. Her lips twitched into a smile as she raised her glass and clinked it with his.

Life wasn't always what you expected it to be. Sometimes it took a strange and unbelievable turn. For Victoria someone had re-written the end of her tale. Her story had a happy ending. With the sun shining upon her she leaned back and closed her eyes. Everyone deserved a second chance, she reasoned as she thought about the strangeness of her new life.

And _she_ deserved one too.

~xXx~

"Happy birthday," Alex smiled as she presented Simon with a bottle and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"I didn't think you _'did'_ birthdays," Simon commented as he waved her and Gene inside.

"We might reconsider that policy if your party is up to a decent standard," gene told him. He handed Simon a well-wrapped box. "Here. Enjoy."

Simon looked at the box dubiously as he held it under one arm.

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" he scowled.

"Like I'd give me best man a substandard present," said Gene.

Simon scowled.

"Now I _know_ it's something crap," he said. Gene had been using the 'best man' line with increasing frequently to manipulate Simon to getting lattes and to placate Simon whenever he was pissed off with Gene. This time he supposed he was getting the line in in advance before Simon even had a chance to open the damn thing. He walked awkwardly to the table and unloaded the bottle and the box onto it before another knock sounded.

He walked back to the door and found Eddie on the doorstep with a black eye.

"Hi Sir," he said miserably.

"Eddie… your…." Simon indicated his eye, "what happened?"

Eddie hung his head miserably.

"I might have accidentally made a suggestion about unusual things to do with birthday cake to Marci," he said.

Simon closed his eyes and sighed. Over the last few weeks he'd become fairly good friends with Gene's new recruits, including Scary Spice-lookalike Marci Fell. Unfortunately Eddie's continued pursuit of the woman hadn't been going very well.

"I'll get some ice," Simon sighed.

Eddie thrust a small bag into his hands.

"Happy birthday," he said, trying to focus on Simon through his one remaining eye.

"Thanks," said Simon. He opened the top of the bag to peer inside and see what Eddie had bought him.

"it's a book of chat-up lines, Sir," Eddie said miserably, "the receipt's in there. After what happened to me earlier I recommend you take it back."

Simon frowned.

"Oh," he said, "thanks." Just as he was about to close the door he heard footsteps hurrying in his direction and stopped in time to see Robin arriving. _"Hey,"_ Simon hated to admit it but his heart still jumped in his chest at the sight of him. As much as he tried to fight it back, his love for Robin wasn't fading. He was doing his best to turn that love into friendship. It wasn't going to happen overnight but he was working on it.

"Hey you," Robin held out a large flat, wrapped gift, "Happy birthday."

"You already gave me something earlier," frowned Simon.

"That was just the holding gift until I picked this up," said Robin.

"Not that the sprout repellent won't come in handy," Simon said, "look, come in, come in." He waved Robin through and they walked to the table. "Drink?"

"In a minute," said Robin as he shed his coat and scarf, aware that Simon was a whisker away from smirking at his outfit, "Yes, I _know_," he said crossly, "whoever or _what_ever put together that wardrobe must have been heavily influenced by watching videos on _The Box_ because there's nothing that doesn't belong on a bloody pop star."

"I'm saying nothing," Simon held up his hands innocently.

"At least I don't have any jumpers," Robin commented.

"Yeah, alright," sighed Simon. He put Robin's gift down on the couch and started to rip away the wrapping paper. "Are you coming on to _Bask _with us after drinks?" he asked hopefully.

Robin felt awkward. He didn't feel right going to the karaoke bar. It held too many memories from his short first trip to Gene's world and he could never face setting foot in the toilets, remembering the moments just before his exit from '95.

"Maybe," he said quietly.

"I hope you will," Simon said sincerely, "it won't feel like a celebration if you're not there.

Robin smiled nervously.

"Maybe I'll come for a bit," he said awkwardly. He cleared his throat, "is, uh," he felt himself reddening a little, "is _she_ going to be there," he paused, "_Shaz?"_

"Yes," said Simon, "It's… not a problem, is it?"

Robin tried to be polite and not to pull faces.

"I don't feel comfortable being around her," he said, "it's bad enough being around her at _work."_

"I couldn't really _not_ invite her," said Simon, "I knew her through Kim, and she hangs around with Jake and Marci."

"Oh great," sighed Robin, "Ronan Keating and Scary Spice. How does _she_ know them?"

"They go clubbing together," shrugged Simon, "I don't know. They don't segregate your dog trainers from the rest of the station, you know." He finished unwrapping the gift and lifted up a large frame with a collection of autographs inside it. "Oh my god –"

"Do you like it?" Robin asked.

"How did you _get_ these?" Simon asked as his eyes scanned all the Red Dwarf autographs Robin had collected.

"Oh, you know," Robin shrugged guiltily, "hanging around studios with an arrest warrant, photographs, a gun and a pen… it happens…"

"Well, _thank_ you," Simon put down the frame and wrapped his arms around Robin's neck in a fairly excitable hug, "thank you! Thank you _so_ much - How can I thank you for this?"

"You can buy me a new pen," said Robin, "Lister pocketed mine…" he drew back as Simon stopped hugging him frantically and turned his attention back to the frame. "Uh, speaking of photos…" he looked a little awkward, "Simon, I –"

Simon turned back to him with a slightly sad and nostalgic smile.

"it's aright," he said quietly, "I know."

"Are you sure you don't mind me having those?" Robin asked quietly.

"You needed them," Simon told him, "honestly, Rob, it's fine. I'm glad you like them."

Robin looked down with a nervous smile as an awkward silence fell. There were a few of those between them these days. Trying to work out where the boundaries of friendship lay after so many years together was proving hard and sometimes it was difficult to know what to say. Luckily Gene's gruff voice filled in the silence.

"Oi, Shoebury, you going to get that bottle opened? Some of us are turning into human deserts over here."

Simon closed his eyes for a moment and gave Robin a gentle smile, then turned around.

"Alright, Gene, give me a chance," he sighed, "God, anyone would think you didn't know how to use a bloody corkscrew."

"Never used one in me life," Gene told him, "Bloody teetotaller, me."

"_Yeah yeah,"_ Simon sighed as he fetched the bottle Alex had given him earlier.

Gene caught his eye.

"I knew a teetotaller once," he said.

Simon closed his eyes and a slightly sad smile flickered across his face. A lot of water had passed under the bridge since then.

"Funny that," he said, "so did I."

~xxx~

A trail of merry individuals marched to _Bask _a little after nine that evening. Drink had been downed, snacks consumed, music played and steak placed on black eyes belonging to Eddie.

"I haven't been to _Bask_ for a bloody lifetime," Gene said as they came closer to the pink neon sign,. "I hope me voice hasn't deteriorated."

Alex looked at him and folded her arms.

"It would have difficulty," she said.

"Are you casting doubt on me singing ability?"

"To do that you would have to _have_ some in the first place," Alex teased.

"Shut your flapping lips or I'll poke you in the tattoo," Gene told her.

Alex laughed and moved closer to him as they came to the doorway, then bumped into the back of Simon as he stopped walking quite suddenly.

"Good place to stop, Shoebury!" cried Gene, "why not try the middle of the M-twenty-five next time?"

"Look," Simon's voice was strained and sad. He pointed to a sign on the door and Gene and Alex moved forward to read it.

"_Dear Customers,"_ it said, "_With regret, Bask will be closing its doors on March 9th. Thank you for your custom."_

"I can't believe it," Simon said sadly, "this was my… well, my place. My hangout. My _local."_

Gene took a deep breath as he read the notice again and placed a hand on Simon's shoulder which made him glance around.

"Still is, Simon," he said, "always will be."

"I don't know what you mean, Gene," Simon shook his head in confusion, "it's closing in just over a week."

"Because," said Gene, "it has to _dis_appear to _re_appear," he paused, "when you _need_ it." He watched Simon's expression changing as he slowly came to realise what Gene was trying to tell him. "Looks like you're ready, Shoebury," he said.

Simon swallowed.

"_My_ Railway Arms?" he asked.

Gene nodded.

"It'll be there when you need it," he said, "when _they_ need it." He glanced at Eddie, complete with black eye, "When _he_ needs it."

Simon nodded slowly. He hung his head a little and breathed in deeply. What a mix of fortunes – he was saying goodbye to his usual hangout, the place he'd spent so many nights, and yet it was becoming the symbol that he was finally getting to grips with the world. He'd earned it.

"It's not closing yet," Alex pointed out, nodding towards the door, "Come on, Simon - let's go and get your birthday going."

A lively group passed through the doors to begin a night of bad music, bad singing, bad décor but good fun. Simon knew that it was the end of an era, but it was the start of one too. He finally had a firm footing in the world. He'd stopped fighting it at last.

He had a lot to celebrate to that night. A birthday was only the beginning.

~xXx~

"I can't understand why he's not making any progress."

The doctor checked over the myriad sheets of notes in the patient's file. The file was almost as thick as a novel by now. Neither he nor his colleagues had ever seen anything like it.

"He hasn't responded to any medication," a female colleague began, "brain scans have shown nothing abnormal, and therapy is a no-go because he has become incapable of coherent thought. The last time we tried he just said the word _Robin _seventy two times in a row, did an impression of a gun then bit the therapist."

"When was the last time he slept?" the first doctor asked.

"He had about an hour, three days ago," she sighed anxiously, "he won't respond to any kind of medication to help him sleep. We tried the highest dose of tranquilisers we could safely administer and it made no difference.

"How many weeks has he been here now?" the first doctor asked as he watched Keats pacing up and down in the almost bare room, his hands bound together. His eyes were darker than they'd ever been before, his face twisted with fury and evil. He stopped to glare at the door as though he'd felt their presence before he even saw them there. It made them both step back a little.

"I am out of suggestions," the first doctor shook his head, "I think we'll have to look for a second opinion."

"Fifth opinion. It doesn't matter who we bring in, no one can offer an explanation." The doctor shook her head as her eyes went back to the manic man and his gnashing of teeth. "We have to face facts. Whatever is wrong with this man, we can't seem to help him, and his condition isn't changing.

~X~

Keats glared at the doctors as they finished their conversation. The room was soundproof but he could lip-read and knew exactly what the second doctor had said. He felt his face turning from an angry glare to a manic smile. That's where she was wrong – he _was_ improving. Day by day, he was getting the extra energy a little more under his control. It had taken a long time but he was finding ways to harness it to his advantage now; to control _it_ instead of letting it control _him_.

It wouldn't be long now. Soon he would have it at his fingertips; the power and the energy that he lapped up from those who dared to have a heart. One day in the not too distant future he would find himself in full control and all that energy would be at his disposal, used for the darkest purpose. So much power for one man to have. Darkness would descend and there was no one to challenge him. No one would dare. No one stood a chance.

Just a few more days and the energy would be under his control, then he would disobey the laws of physics, escape his binds and take the helm of his station once again.

Soon it would be his world too.

And there was no one to stop him.

**~xXx~**

**2012**

Kelly had asked to do it. For a stranger to tell her wouldn't have been right.

Kim was barely conscious, barely coherent. Her injuries and her trauma had rendered her weak and Kelly almost turned her head away as she walked into her hospital room.

"_Ma'am,"_ she whispered.

Kim turned her head and opened her raw, bloodshot eyes. She hadn't expected to see Kelly, the woman who had done her very best to avoid Kim at work after saving her life a year ago. The sight of her standing there, her face almost ashen with sadness, scared her.

"What?" she whispered just barely audibly, "what's happened?"

"I'm… I'm sorry," Kelly whispered. She took a deep breath, her hands shaking all the while, "It's Robin."

From the crushing pain in her heart, Kim knew. She just _knew_. That was all Kelly had to say for her to know inside what was coming, but Kim had to hear it anyway

"Go on," she whispered.

"One of your neighbours heard a commotion in your flat," Kelly trembled, "there were shots fired. She called the police. Robin… " she swallowed, "they… they tried to revive him but he'd lost too much blood." She bowed her head as she fought tears, I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm _so_ sorry

The magnitude of the pain was too much for Kim to bear.

"No," her voice was small and scared; scared to believe that he was gone, scared to believe that the love of her life was no longer with her, _"No,"_ her face screwed up in agony as tears washed down her face, "Please tell me it's not true, please say… please say he's alright, _please –"_

The shaking of Kelly's head and the tears that slipped from her face to the ground showed Kim that it was true.

"I'm so sorry," she cried.

"_No –"_ Kim's last word descended into loud sobs that shook her body and stung her throat. There were no words to describe her devastation and no words to rein in her agony. She'd lost Robin. She'd lost their baby. She'd lost _everything._

The only thing she had to lose now was hope.

~x~

_Beeeeeeeeeeeeep –_

The alarm brought doctors and nurses flocking to Kim's room.

"What's happening?" one of them asked.

"I'm not liking the look of this," another doctor said.

They buzzed around her as they examined her.

"We need to get her back to theatre" one of them said quickly, "I suspect she's got internal bleeding, we'll have to open her up again and see what's going on."

"Come on, Kim, fight –

~x~

She didn't want to open her eyes. She knew she was still in the real world. She could tell that from the modern music playing away on the TV in the corner of the room. No safe passage back to Robin for her. That alone made her want to cry.

"_Kim?"_

The doctor was saying her name again and again, wouldn't take no for an answer. Reluctantly she opened her eyes. She didn't want to. Didn't want to acknowledge her heart was still beating.

"Kim, I need you to listen to me."

""Fuck, this _pain_ –" Kim's face screwed up.

"You can have another dose of morphine shortly," the doctor told her.

"What's _happened_ to me?" Kim couldn't understand why there was so much pain in her abdomen when it had been fading. It was back, _plus_ some.

"You had some internal bleeding," the doctor said sombrely, "we had to take you back to theatre and open you up. The bleeding has stopped, you've been given a blood transfusion, you' re going to be fine now."

She wasn't. She was _far_ from fine. How was anything going to be fine again? She closed her eyes and turned her head away.

"I just want to sleep," she whispered.

"Kim, I need you to listen carefully. I'm afraid there were complications," the doctor told her.

She froze for a moment. Those weren't words she wanted to hear, unless they resulted in her passing away. She turned back and looked at him.

"Why? What's wrong with me?" she whispered.

The doctor looked at her seriously.

"There was so much damage to your womb," he said, "we had to perform an emergency hysterectomy to stop the bleeding."

Those words came at her like another series of gunshots to the guts. She stared at him, silently begging him to take those words back and tell her differently,

"What?" she whispered.

The doctor hung his head.

"I'm very sorry," he said quietly, "it was a necessary procedure to save your life. Without it you would have bled to death."

Her eyes closed and she gulped back tears.

"Oh god," she cried, her voice laden with desperation, "oh god, _no –" _

How could she take any more? How could life be so cruel? Not only had she just lost her baby but now she would never have a chance to conceive another? Her heart ached and her devastation burned her chest. She wanted to die. She wanted to turn back the clock and stop the doctors from finding her in time to save her life.

Her life was over and the light of hope in her heart was fading fast.

~x~

"I'm sorry," the solicitor adjusted his glasses and looked at her seriously, "I can't help you here, Miss Stringer."

"But you said I was a good _candidate,"_ Kim's voice bordered on desperation as she felt her lip trembling, "you said you were going to start the process."

"Your situation was different then," the solicitor told her sympathetically, "You were in a stable relationship with a happy home life. Unfortunately," he paused and looked at her sadly, "_unfortunately_ your circumstances have changed. Your recent bereavement, the fact that you would be pursuing the adoption alone in a profession that carries its risks, in your present state of health… I'm afraid you are no longer a good candidate to adopt the Drake baby."

Kim couldn't hold back the tears. They burst forth like an April shower as she clutched her hands together.

"But that tiny little thing," she cried, "she has _no one_ –"

"Molly Drake's foster mother is perusing adoption of the baby," the solicitor informed her.

Kim felt like someone had wrung her heart out.

"What?"

"To keep the two Drake children together," he explained, "I'm sorry."

Kim just stared. She didn't even cry this time. It was as though the pain had reached a level so high that it didn't register any more. It went right off the scale. She simply sat there, staring ahead with dead eyes.

"Well," she whispered, "I won't waste any more of your time." She slowly got to her feet, her body still wracked with pain from her injuries, and walked out of the office.

She heard the solicitor calling after her with a pointless apology that meant nothing to her. In fact, in her mind, very _little_ meant anything any more. Everything that she loved, everything that she cared for, all of it had been wiped out from right beneath her nose.

The final flicker of light in her soul faded and died, right there and then. Her hope was gone. Her compassion drained dry. Her joy was dead. Her love of life suffocated until it simply laid down and faded away.

She felt no more. It didn't do to feel. Feeling only led to pain. And pain was something she didn't care to experience any longer.

Her heart may have been beating but she was dead on the inside.

~x~

She stared at the spot just above the Super's head. She didn't look people in the eye any more. That generally led to a sympathetic tilt of the head and a '_how are you doing?' _That wasn't a question she wanted to hear, nor to respond to. Nor, in fact, did she want to spend time talking to people. She shut down conversations before they could begin.

Her clothes almost hung from her body like rags on a scarecrow; her bones protruding from beneath her skin, her eyes sunken and dull and her skin pale and sallow. The masculine cut of her clothes and the heavy, clunky boots that encased her legs up to the knees were all that stopped people from seeing her as a shadow of the woman she was before, physically at least. Her dead eyes and firm jaw along with her sharp tongue kept any questions about her state at bay.

"First of all, it's great to see you back," Superintendent Hedges began, "we all hope that you continue to improve and recuperate."

_Continue_? That was a laugh. That implied that she had even begun.

"Thank you sir," she said. Her tone was firm but cold, devoid of emotion.

"Secondly, the unveiling of the memorial plaque in the car park for Chief Inspector Thomas will take place this Friday," he looked at her sympathetically. "If you would like to be the one to say a few words –"

"No," Kim said quickly. She swallowed back any hint of emotion, "I think that would be best left to someone else."

Hedged hesitated, then slowly nodded.

"Very well," he said, "I understand." He linked his fingers and leaned forward. "Now, the main reason I've asked you here today is to discuss with you the fastrack opportunities that are available right now.

Oh _god_, not _those_ again.

"Sir, I'm not –"

"We're having difficulty finding a suitable candidate to fill DCI Huston's shoes in CID," the Super interrupted before she could turn him down, "we've interviewed several candidates for the post but no one has met the standards we've been looking for. CID needs someone who will be a harsh, driving force. It's faced a lot of controversy in the past year, with the awful _DI March_ business and various mutterings of dissent. CID needs someone who's not going to take any crap, who's capable of making fast decisions and who's never afraid to get their hands dirty. We want to promote internally."

He looked pointedly at Kim and finally she had no choice but to meet his eye.

"Me?" she couldn't quite take that in.

"One word and you'll be on the fast track training scheme by Monday. You'll be heading up CID by the end of the month."

Kim stared, her mind racing. She'd never intended for her career to progress this way. She had never been promotion-hungry. She had sometimes wished she had more ambition in her working life but climbing the ladder had never been important to her – it was doing the job well and keeping people safe that mattered. Even DI was further than she'd seen herself going. She had always felt life was more important and never been the kind of person who was happy to let her job take over. But now her job was all she had left in her life.

"What if I don't pass the fast-track training?" she asked her voice low and steady.

"You'll pass it," said Hedges, "Face it, DI Stranger, You're not going to fail, are you? You were made for this job," he looked at her seriously, "it's your destiny." She felt a strange sense of anticipation as he asked her, "so what's it going to be?"

Kim pursed her lips for a moment, her mind covering more ground in moments than she'd he ever thought possible, but whatever was going through her head her instinct made the decision for her.

"I accept," she said bluntly.

The Super smiled and began to talk at speed about the fast-track process and what to expect but Kim zoned much of it out. It all seemed to fade into the background, just as most of the days did since she lost Robin. She did a lot of nodding politely before shaking his hand and going back to work.

She was flattered by the offer. She knew it was a big deal. But she couldn't bring herself to care the way she would before.

It was just a job, but it was all she had left.

~x~

She drained her glass dry and put the bottle away. Nights were spent alone with scotch and the television. Of her limited company, the scotch had little effect any more and the TV showed nothing of interest. She waited nightly until a mixture of the drink, the exhaustion from the lack of food and the pills that she was supposed to be cutting back on started to make her sleepy and then she'd pull a blanket over her body on the couch, unable to face sleeping in the bed alone.

Once again she found her eyes closing. Every time it happened she wished that something would happen to stop her from waking up again but so far she'd been out of luck. The TV continued to drone on in the background with some late night repeats of _What's My Arse?_ Or some other such crap that she hadn't even been watching as she found herself falling into a deep sleep that would keep her in darkness until morning.

The TV screen crackled, but she didn't see it.

The speakers buzzed with static but she didn't hear it.

The images came onto the screen at breakneck speed, one after another, flipping through them like someone surfing the channels;

_Fzzzzzz –_

A woman's face, paralyzed with fear, knowing what was ahead in a situation she remembered only too well –

_Fzzzzzz –_

The man whose hair mixed with blood from the wound as the bat clubbed him around the head and sent him to the floor in a bloodied mess of unconsciousness.

_Fzzzzzzzz –_

The man who stared on in horror as the walls crumbled and smoke filled the air and the one whose arm was outstretched to another fruitlessly offering help to escape the un-escapable.

_Fzzzzzz –_

The screaming. _So_ much screaming. So much panicking, so many feet running, so much blood spilt.

_Fzzzzzzzzzzzzt._

The TV flicked off just as her eyes flickered and slowly opened. She didn't see a moment, not a second of it. She hadn't heard any of the cries for help or the painful screaming. She hadn't seen the warnings that filtered through from a desperate world about to find its darkest moment.

So why was her heart racing and her stomach in knots?

She closed her eyes and forced it out of her mind.

No dreams. No thoughts. Just sleep.

And darkness, across the other side of the line.

**~xXx~ …To Be Continued…~xXx~**

_**A/N: Whew, I feel totally wrung out! Finally time to put the tissues away :P I really can't say enough of a thank you to everyone who's read this story and I am really grateful to everyone who has reviewed and left me comments and thoughts along the way, I really appreciated the encouragement**_

_**Special thanks to Morgana (A gift basket of loofahs and beard fics on their way!) Oceancounty (hopefully you've put your stick away) rantandrumour (who didn't read this epilogue because it doesn't exist and definitely doesn't contain a lot of mean things happening to Kim!), Fenella Church, Sillygenie, sash queen of the jungle, Sillivan, Jointhehunt (I am so sorry for giving you a fear of the beard!), Life-is-for-finding-answers, purplekerrycat and wwedx on ffnet, and massive thanks to Charlotte and Noemi from FB for still following and enjoying the series - Charlotte, I am sorry!**_

_**For many reasons this fic is always going to be special to me and I'm sad it's over. But I will be starting a sequel because I apparently can't stop writing :P The actual sequel I'm hoping to begin tomorrow, it follows on straight after this story but it going to be fairly out there at the beginning – I hope you'll stick with it because things do become clearer! I'm also going to write a shortish story - mostly for my own peace of mind :P - about Robin's 6 weeks back in the real world, which I hope to start this week. And also I want to pick up writing Strange Little Girl again which I haven't written since the end of tlast year because I wasn't sure how I was going to take things with Kim in the story arc that's now ended and I needed to get that out the way first. I'm hoping to start posting more to that of Kim's story later in the week too :)**_

_**Finally, I hope some of the songs I used for chapter names and lyric-wise brought back memories for some of you – I picked all songs that reminded me of my happy art college years – 1997 and early '98 held some of my happiest memories and I had a lot of fun looking through old charts to remind myself of the music that used to play on the radio whilst making giant collages of stinky prawns and octopi while trying to avoid a neurotic art tutor who was always losing her handbag!**_

_**I'd better post this – it's waaaaay later than I was hoping to finish since various children decided they didn't want to sleep tonight! I, on the other hand, do – goodnight! :) x**_


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